The New Doctor
by Lieuten Keen
Summary: There's a new doctor on board wreaking havoc in her wake. Chapter 58! Malcolm and Andie reach a truce. Is it temporary?
1. Chapter 1

**The New Doctor**

**By Lieuten Keen**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. I just take them out for a spin now and again.

Just a warning: Smoking, drinking, cursing, kissing and kicking butt are a few of my favorite things. Read Responsibly.

* * *

Set in Season 4 just after _Kir'Shara_. There's six months between the Vulcan Civil War and the Conference at Babel One. I'm making the most of that time.

* * *

Trip stood stiffly and reassured the captain that he was indeed interested in piloting the shuttle. Archer sighed heavily. His Chief Engineer had been out of sorts for some time now, and nothing had changed since they'd left space dock. Maybe some time alone would do his friend some good.

Jon nodded. He handed over the data pad with the transfer orders. "Admiral Gardiner has commanded that the presiding official sign the orders before we take responsibility for our new passenger. Doctor Brainerd is an expert in his field and something of a legend. Please extend him every courtesy." Archer still wasn't happy that Starfleet had insisted on this crewmember. Jon liked to select every one by hand.

Trip nodded. "I'll be on my best behavior, Captain." His blue eyes searched out the green orbs of his commanding officer. "Are you sure that Phlox won't mind having an extra doctor mucking around for a while?"

Archer almost smiled. "Phlox is looking forward to sharing the medical burdens temporarily. He thinks it'll allow him more time to get to know humanity better to have so much free time. Besides, it's only for six months, until _Columbia_ is ready to leave space dock."

Considering the inquisitive and friendly nature of their current Denobulan doctor, Trip raised a speculative eyebrow. "Phlox with more time on his hands to spend getting to know the crew," he pondered. "Are we ready for that?" His lips curled up at the edges.

Jon was happy to see the humor, even if it was a tad forced. "I think we'll get through it," he nodded sagely. "You don't suppose he'll spend all that free time asking about human procreation, do you?"

The southerner's smile was wider this time. "Nah," he assured his friend. "He'll want to know about our psychiatric stability as well." His joke fell flat as both men sobered at that thought of Phlox with free time to probe the crew.

"It's only for six months," Trip attempted to reassure them both as he left the room.

* * *

Trip landed the shuttle pod in the designated area and entered the main reception at the indication of a blue humanoid. Their coloring had more green than the Andorians, and they had long snouts, like an elephant's trunk. Still, they seemed to be friendly and in good spirits. It had been a long trip, though, and he was glad of the solid ground and fresh breeze.

Inside he found most of the inhabitants at the far side of the room with their long snouts pressed up against the window that took up the entire wall. He moved closer to see what held their attention. Outside lay an expanse of green grass under a deep blue sky. The lawn extended a distance to the sharply jutting spires of rock that flanked the slow moving green river, like two fangs guarding a lolling tongue. On top of the tall cylindrical mountains were two twin viewing outposts connected by a glass tunnel that allowed you to walk seemingly on air from one glass dome to the other. It became clear what held so many people transfixed in quiet horror.

A shuttle appeared to have plummeted through the glass walkway, leaving two jagged open tunnels, before crashing against the side of one of the towers of rock and balancing precariously on a jutting outcrop in the same place where the glass elevator had been the primary transport from the ground to the summit. In fact, it was the destroyed conveyance that was holding the smoking shuttle up and preventing it from crushing the citizens that gathered underneath, gawking at the spectacle. Obviously the accident had happened recently, although rescue attempts were already underway. Two more shuttle crafts hovered over the wreck and Trip could barely make out rescuers helping survivors to comparative safety by rope ladder.

A blue Azorian finally noticed his presence and stepped timidly toward him. "May I help you, sir?"

Trip couldn't tell by its voice or clothing whether or not the creature was male or female. "I'm from _Enterprise_. I'm here to pick up Doctor Brainerd." Both statements sounded more like questions.

When the Azorian heard his mission, it sucked in its breath and opened its eyes very widely. "The General will be so glad to see you!" it whispered. Immediately Commander Tucker was herded into the next room.

Another long snouted blue figure in a stiff green jacket stood at another bank of windows, overseeing the rescue with the aid of computers and communication devices, manned by other Azorians. Trip noted that their technology wasn't state of the art, although it seemed adequate for the action at hand. The servant tiptoes to the General and whispered in his ear. The General spun around in a fluster.

"You're here for Brainerd?" he barked, frowning to cover the hope that sprang unbidden to his eyes. Those long snouts lent to a lisp in their speech.

"Yes, sir," Trip answered, stepping forward to shake hands. His gesture was ignored as underlings called the General's attention back to the mountain.

Two people were arguing on top of the crashed ship, and although they couldn't hear what was being said, they did see the taller one shove the shorter person backward to tumble off the roof and fall into a crevice and out of sight of the tower. The two shuttles, fighting the rising wind so high above the idyllic plain, lifted up and the broken vessel, secured by heavy cables on its roof, lifted away as well. The taller person stood on top of the buckled roof as the mess was airlifted to the landing dock near the observation tower. As the damaged vehicle was lifted off the damaged elevator, and the shuttles had drifted to one side with their heavy cargo, the fallen figure could be seen clutching a rocky extrusion close to the summit.

"Doc!" shouted one of the underlings at the console. "We're sending another shuttle to pick you up!"

"Don't bother," replied a dry, throaty voice. "Winds are too strong for shuttles tonight. I'll find my own way." Trip didn't know what surprised him more; that one arm immediately reached higher to grapple for purchase and pull itself up, or that the voice was female.

Seeming to defy gravity, the slender figure climbed steadily and slowly up the steep, jagged incline. The woman made good use of the elevator cable to speed her ascent. Finally the figure disappeared over the lip of rock, and the room exhaled its breath as one. A few moments later another comm. came through the channels.

"The people inside are calm, but there's no other way down, General. The elevator is beyond repair tonight, and the winds are too strong up here for shuttles. You'll be able to bring them down in the morning."

"We'll make your transport pilot comfortable for the evening," the General was gracious but wary. "We'll see you in the morning." He glanced uneasily at Trip who stood quietly in the background, watching in stunned silence. His tentative smile disappeared at the next vocal transmission.

"My shuttle's here?" The General cursed himself for letting that tidbit slip. "I'll be right down."

"Doctor!" the General protested, but his words were lost.

"Don't bother the shuttle. I've always wanted to try something. Hang on!" she chirped cheerfully.

A few minutes later, the figure appeared on the damaged walkway that used to span the gorge above the river and was now open to the elements. Bending to perform a task that wasn't visible to the eyes in the tower, she stood at the edge of the broken path, raised both arms over her head and dove off the jut straight into the water.

Trip stopped breathing.

Behind her, the line played out as she fell, growing taut around the knot secured at her ankles, and eventually reaching its limit and recoiled to bring her bouncing halfway up again. Down she fell again, as gravity took over. Her upwards motion was gentler this time, and as she reached its summit, she leaned upward to fiddle with the bindings at her ankles. She dropped again and this time, continued her descent and plunged straight down into the murky green water of the river below.

"Son of a bitch!" Trip murmured, not believing his own eyes. He thought the captain was the only person he knew that was crazy enough to try something that extreme.

At ground level, the crowds surged forward, blocking the towers' view of the river, each one hoping to be the first to catch sight of the jumper. Gradually a cheer rose out of the murmuring crowd, and the rooftop sensors presented an image of a slender figure accepting a blue hand as she swung her leg over the edge of a barge lazily touring the river in the warmer climate at the foot of the rocky towers. Rising, she accepted a drink and toasted the hordes waiting on the sidelines and her actions were echoed as the audience cheered. Nearby a band, which had ceased its music at the sight of the calamity, played again and drinks were poured and the revelry continued.

The General sighed and dropped his head, looking the worse for the experience. Looking over his shoulder at Trip, he seemed to recall the visitor and his purpose. Holding out a hand, he took the data pad and scribbled a signature, thrusting it back at Trip. "Doc's your problem now," he sighed with relief and left the room where he greeted the survivor's of the shuttle crash with a weary air of relief.

A drink was pressed into Trip's hand and he moved closer to the window to get a better look at the river barge dropping its celebrity on the pier. More cheers and more drinks, more waving and shaking of hands before the wet figure started up the long, crowded path to the main observation tower.

Outside on a private balcony, Trip got his first clear look at the person that caused such upheaval. Stomping up the stairs at the back door, she looked ticked off. She wore fitted black pants and a sleeveless green tunic like the other Azorians wore, and at the top of the stairs, stood toe to toe with the same tall figure that had crashed his craft into a mountain and nearly shoved her to her death. She didn't appear to be afraid of him as she shouted at him for his behavior while repeatedly poking him in the chest with her index finger.

Green eyes snapped with icy rage and the thin line of her mouth echoed the thin, angry line that divided her brows. Her tone was low and clipped and she made a short statement to the General standing nearby, and she concluded her tirade by slapping the pilot across the face. Somebody exited the balcony and left the door slightly ajar, and Trip heard the fury in her voice as she concluded with, "He may be your son, but your position will not protect him if he continues to take risks with the lives of others!" A scathing look was sent to the boy before her before she threw up her hands and declared, "He's your problem now!" in much the same way that the General had earlier when referring to Doctor Brainerd.

Trip suddenly had a bad feeling as he scoured the data pad for the name as the damp female stepped through the glass doors and marched straight over to Trip with a warm smile that held none of the malice so pervasive before.

"You must be my ride," she grinned widely. "I'm Doctor Andrea Brainerd, and all packed. Do I have time to change clothes?" She glanced down ruefully at her soggy attire but raised her gaze at his awkward silence. The wind had dried most of the water, but she still looked bedraggled.

The silence continued as she appraised him.

"You were expecting an old man?" she guessed correctly with a cynical glint in her eye.

"Y..yes," Trip stammered.

"Check your papers," she informed him coolly. "You're looking for An-dree-uh," she emphasized the last syllable, "Not Ahn-dreh. Dad doesn't work for Starfleet."

Recovering his aplomb, the officer fell back on courtesy. "Sorry," Trip tucked the pad under his arm and held out his hand not currently holding a beverage. "Commander Charles Tucker the third," he introduced himself.

"My dad doesn't work for Starfleet either," he added when she seemed reluctant to shake.

Giving in to his charm, she smiled and shook. "Call me Andie. Azoria is celebrating the end of summer. It's one hell of a party. Would you like to spend the night and watch the show, or are we in a hurry?" she asked.

Trip was tempted, but shook his head. "If the wind is picking up, then we should get a head start. It's about thirty hours back to _Enterprise_." He looked at her boots, still dripping on the smooth floor. "We can spare some time for a fresh set of clothes though."

Andrea looked at Trip. "Surely you can spare some time for lunch, right?" she tempted him. "They make a fantastic grilled _soupra._"

He had to work to make his sigh sound put upon. "Fine, we'll have lunch," he conceded with a smile. "I hope it tastes like catfish."

She grinned. "Thanks. Give me twenty minutes." She snapped her fingers and carried on a short conversation with a couple of Azorians. They came and offered Trip a chair and a fresh beverage while he waited. Outside, the citizens continued celebrating the warm season, even as clouds began to gather over the towers of rock outside.

As good as her word, she returned in twenty minutes, dressed in gray pants and a quilted gray jacket with a Starfleet patch on her shoulder. She wore a black shirt and heavy black boots. At the snap of her fingers, two blue men appeared out of nowhere and picked up two heavy crates and carried them out front. They returned and picked up two more crates. They placed the last small crate and her carpetbag inside the shuttle pod, as Andrea led Trip outside to a table on the patio in the sunshine.

"They seem helpful," Trip noted at the men who loaded the shuttle.

"They seem like losers in a card game," she winked.

"Are you good at cards?" he inquired, thinking of inviting her to the poker game held by several crewmen aboard _Enterprise_.

"Nope," she grinned. "But luckily, they are even worse at cards than me!"

Azorians brought out several trays and handed them around to all the diners outside. Delicate pastries filled with grilled seafood in a foreign spicy sauce, followed by an assortment of vegetables in colors that Trip had never seen before, then steaming bowls of chowder with hot loaves of bread on the side. His glass was continually refilled with the house beverage, a murky green liquid that tasted like iced tea. After a few sips his head began to swim and he realized it was not tea at all. That knowledge didn't stop his intake, although it did slow it down.

It really was a pleasant afternoon, with Azorians passing by the table to send their well-wishes with Doctor Brainerd and smile a greeting at the human male. Babies filled almost every pair of arms and children laughed as they ran through the grass. Butterflies flitted by on their way to brightly colored flowers, clouds gathered slowly around a muted sun, and laughter and games filling up the lives of the citizens around them. Trip found that he was glad he'd volunteered to come.

Reluctantly he pulled himself away from the sleepy afternoon, and the doctor followed his lead as they headed for the shuttle. Azorians came to kiss her good-bye and she smiled and waved. Even the General, despite his relief to be getting rid of her, showed up and slipped a cylinder out of his jacket and into Andie's hands. She smiled and kissed his cheek. Then she got into the shuttle pod and the humans took off into the sky.

* * *

"The ship is orbiting Mychow. We'll meet up with them there." Trip looked over his shoulder at the mountain of crates in the small cabin of the shuttle and smirked at his companion. "I know women who pack too much, but do you think you brought enough stuff?"

She smirked back. "They're scientific research materials," she sniffed. "Some of us have more important things to do than fly around the galaxy picking up chicks," she teased.

He chuckled. They reached outer space and were surrounded by darkness and stars, and Andie leaned back and propped her feet on the console in front of her. She pulled the silver bottle out of her pocket and offered a swig to Trip. "It's like sake," she told him. "It's an Azorian liquor to commemorate the beginning of life. They use it for their celebrations."

He raised a hesitant eyebrow. "I'm on duty. I really shouldn't..."

Andie snorted. "Is there a lot to do on a shuttle while making a routine transport?" She sounded dubious. "I'm not on duty," she asserted. "I'll drink and you can tell me what I'm about to get myself into." She poured a small amount of clear liquid into a cup not much bigger than a thimble and sipped before asking her questions.

"So what's the Chief Engineer doing acting as shuttle pilot for a temporary crew member?" she wondered without looking directly at the blond man next to her.

He started. "I don't remember telling you my position," he stalled, hoping for more time.

"I read the mission logs to familiarize myself with my new arrangement," she told him. "I know who you are."

"I had some free time coming, and thought it might be nice to take a trip," he answered carefully.

Doctor Brainerd looked skeptical. "That can't be the whole reason," she stated.

Her only answer was a shrug. "I like the quiet, Doc," he stated stubbornly.

She harrumphed. "Sounds like girl trouble," she commented. He said nothing but his jaw clenched.

She could see she hit a sore spot and dropped the subject. "Call me Andie," she told him again, pouring a small amount of liquid into a second cup and setting it on the console near his hand.

He ignored it.

She tried again. "Is there a lot of opportunity for girl trouble on board _Enterprise_?" her tone was light and her eyes twinkled. Trip found himself studying her face for quite some time trying to figure out what seemed to be different about her.

"There's some," he avoided the question. "I thought your eyes were green before?" He finally pinpointed the change. He was looking into gray eyes.

"My eyes change color according to mood and costume," she waved away the question. "Dad used to call them chameleon eyes." Now it was her turn to squirm at the personal question. She tried another tactic.

"Tell me about Captain Archer. I hear he's a real hardass."

"He's not so bad," Trip told her, relieved that he wouldn't have to tell her about his heartache. Without realizing it, he picked up the cup and sipped it absently. It burned smoothly down his throat. "He can be prickly when he's under stress."

"Good to know," she murmured.

"I imagine your dad must be a real hardass," he commented idly, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She didn't squirm at all, although she did stop fidgeting. "He has his moments." Her answer was diplomatic enough. They both leaned back as far as their chairs would allow and studied the passing stars for a moment.

After filling both their cups she settled back, asking, "Did you ever meet Archer's dad? He must have been really great." She pulled a deck of cards out of her pocket and began shuffling them expertly. "You play gin, right?"

"Play gin, drink gin, it's all the same really," he chuckled. He felt so much better than he had in a long time.

It was a good thing Trip set the auto-pilot because they spent many of the remaining hours sipping Azorian _ouza_ and trading stories about the crew.

* * *

Malcolm was preparing to fire again. Archer stumbled onto the bridge, long after dinner and found him there. The tightly wound man was gleeful about shooting up random asteroids to test the alignment of the phase cannons and the new photonic torpedoes. He'd been chuckling and firing at things all day.

Sometimes Malcolm was a little bit scary.

"Don't you think we've had enough target practice for one day?" Archer groused. They'd finished repairs earlier than expected and had laid in a course that would intercept with the shuttle pod a little earlier than expected. Malcolm had convinced the captain that the weapons needed testing. Sometimes Malcolm just needed to let off a little steam, so Archer agreed. He was having second thoughts about that at the moment.

"I've almost got the alignment right, Captain," Lieutenant Reed assured him. "Just a few more tries."

"Two more," Archer spoke clearly.

Malcolm looked up, the disappointment at the end of his target session written clearly all over his face. "Two more tests, sir?" He hoped he heard wrong.

"Just two more, Malcolm," the captain told him in no uncertain terms.

"Yes, sir. I'm sure we'll have it worked out in two more shots, sir." Malcolm finished tweaking something and hit the button. The entire ship shuddered as bolts of light flashed out in front and another asteroid smashed to bits. The Brit was giddy at the readouts.

Jon hovered while Reed made his final adjustments and called down to the armory for some other readings. Several minutes later, the final test shot was fired and the biggest of the asteroids shattered.

"Very satisfactory, sir!" Malcolm enthused. "We brought our targeting experience up by six percent effectiveness."

"Excellent," the captain grumbled, wondering how much difference six measly percent could really make. "Now go to bed, Malcolm."

* * *

Even after the late shift had taken over for the night, and the armory had cleaned up the details of their weapons tests, and everyone was snuggled in their beds for rest, the universe continued to maneuver.

The rocks that had been blasted apart rolled past one another, their large sizes turning around each other in their wake. A pattern formed, like a dance, and the pieces fit into swirling storm of their own.


	2. Chapter 2

**The New Doctor**

**By Lieuten Keen**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. I just take them out for a spin now and again.

Set in Season 4 just after _Kir'Shara_. There's six months between the Vulcan Civil War and the Conference at Babel One. I'm making the most of that time.

**A/N**: Drinking, smoking, cursing, kissing and kicking butt are a few of my favorite things. Please read responsibly.

Thanks to Exploded Pen, firebirdgirl and volley for reviewing. I have a kooky and twisted vision sometimes. I hope you enjoy.

The shuttle rocked gently, rolling Andie's head across the seat and jarring her into wakefulness. Her eyes were bleary and her head ached. Her tongue felt like it was covered in fur. The shuttle rocked again, with greater force this time. With effort, she pulled her head off the seat and peered out the window. There seemed to be several rocks floating by. One large boulder tumbled past the window, barely touching the nose of the craft. A sensor chirped insistently.

Shaking the shoulder of the man next to her, she urged Trip to wake. "Something's wrong," her voice was tight. "Get up!"

The man next to her moaned and clutched his pounding head. "My mouth feels like the inside of the waste recycling chamber," he protested, squinting his eyes against the unaccustomed light that came with the opening of his eyelids. "What was in that stuff?"

Another thump and the shuttle rocked again. The motion caused his eyes to snap open and drag his feet down from their comfortable perch as he studied the readouts and panels before him.

"We're off course!" he groaned at the noise he made.

Andie didn't waste any time; she hurried to the rear of the shuttle and opened a large silver case. Pulling out a hypo spray, she loaded it with a serum and applied a dose to her own neck, before turning back to her companion.

"You're not allergic to anything, are you?" she asked. Trip barely had time to shake his head carefully before she was administering the medication. In a moment most of the pain of his hangover had diminished.

"We're in the middle of an asteroid belt!" he snapped in disbelief, verifying the data again to be sure. "It shouldn't be here! We're supposed to miss this entirely!"

"Asteroids?" Andie's voice squeaked with tension. "Is there any danger of being crushed?"

A loud crunch outside the starboard wall sent the vessel rocking in the opposite direction, answering her question before the Engineer did.

"You carry EV suits on this tub?" she asked in a voice that was beginning to emit sounds of panic. "Put them on! Now!" she demanded when Trip didn't move. She scrambled up from where she'd tumbled as she barked at him.

"In a minute!" he protested. "I'm sending a message to _Enterprise._ I hope they can hear it," he muttered in a lower tone of voice. He didn't know much about the young doctor, but he did know that she had never served aboard a deep space vessel before. He was afraid he was going to have to keep her calm throughout this mess. Turning around, he found that may not be necessary.

She was clambering over the crates she'd brought aboard, shoving them aside in order to make access to the supply closet. Yanking the door open with unnecessary force, she started pulling out the sleek golden suits that were the key to life if something happened to the vessel they were traveling in. She tossed one suit to Trip and pulled out another for herself, stepping into it and fastening the straps before reaching back for the helmet and environmental control breastplate.

Trip continued to try and reach _Enterprise_, sending out distress signals while fighting the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as his attempts to steer the shuttle away from the swirling rocks were met with disappointment. He thought the thrusters may be damaged. Despite his aptitude, the tiny pod whirled closer to the eddy of rocks beginning to circle around each other like a bathtub drain.

"I think the rocks are giving off some sort of magnetic pull!" he barked out loud. "We're being pulled into the eddy!"

"Commander," Andie's voice was low and dangerous, like when she'd threatened the General and his son on the balcony outside the Azorian outpost. "I have a knife in my boot, and if you don't put this EV suit on right now, I'll cut your clothes off and you'll be rescued in the buff. Can you imagine trying to explain that to your captain?"

Pulling his brows together in a frown so he didn't laugh at her words, Trip swiveled around in his chair to find her studying him with both hands on her hips. The laughter faded as he stared at her stern features in surprise. "Fine," he finished, and began pulling off his blue jumpsuit in order to slip into the silver lining that protected the human body against unsafe conditions.

She paid no attention to his strip tease. Kneeling on the floor, she'd found a band of material and was tying the four largest cases together, albeit loosely, with the cord. She slipped two items out of her personal carpetbag before popping the lid on a crate and stowing her bag inside and refastening the lid securely. The first item was a heater. She turned it on to a medium setting and dropped it inside the smallest crate, the one that was not tied with the larger ones. She also turned a dial on an oxygen tank and slid it inside the same small case before snapping the locks around the airtight seal.

The destruction outside was becoming more insistent and the shuttle shook with greater force as they were driven deeper into the swirling space debris. They were tossed about inside and struggled to remain upright.

"Inertial dampeners are offline!" he told her unnecessarily.

"Duh!" she snapped back, wrestling with the heavy environmental suit.

Trip took the time to make sure her breastplate was secured around her slender form, ready to accept her helmet when the time came, before tending to his own.

A squawk from the comm panel cut out all of his other concerns. He practically threw himself across the short distance to flick the communications button on. "_Enterprise_, this is Shuttle Pod One. We read you, Captain. We're caught in some sort of an asteroid eddy." Another shudder sent Andie to her knees with a squeak as she stood behind him.

Ignoring the chatter between the men on the speaker, Andie closed her eyes and turned her head to one side, the better to hear the nearly silent hissing noise. "We've sprung a leak," she told Trip with certainty. She didn't wait, but pulled the helmet over her head and snapped the locks in place. Circling and waving her arms caught Trips' attention, and he stopped her with one hand and flicked the valve that released oxygen into her helmet. She sighed deeply and twitched her lips into a smile to thank him.

Trip finally reached for his helmet but before he put it on two large asteroids collided on opposite sides of the shuttle. Ruptures appeared on both sides of the craft, and gravity left them as one wall buckled under the pressure. They could see a small strip of the cold darkness outside before being the vacuum pulled them across the room against the wall with great force. The atmosphere vented into space, nearly pulling them out the small hole until pressure had equalized inside and out.

Shaking, Andie regained her feet. "Trip?" He didn't answer her. "Commander?" There was still no answer. Clumsy in her thick gloves, she rolled his body over to find that his head had connected with the corner of the shuttle. The man was pale and a thin line of blood inched along his forehead. Pulling something out of her baggage, she put it in her mouth, chewed it into a paste and smeared it on the cut on his head, cussing a blue streak under her breath.

The grav plates went offline causing everything that wasn't buckled down to lift off the floor and hover aimlessly in space. Their path spiraled through rocks and debris. She cursed long and fluently before shoving the helmet onto his head.

On board the _Enterprise_, the officers on the bridge were treated to an audio of her oral frustration, much to the surprise of the listeners. Eight or nine words followed one another in rapid succession, not all of them in English.

Travis ducked his head to hide his snickers. T'Pol and Malcolm showed signs of distaste for the inappropriate display. Hoshi and the captain were surprised at the gender of the speaker.

"Excuse me?" Captain Archer indicated that Hoshi should transmit his voice to the EV suits. "This is Captain Archer of the Starship _Enterprise_. Please identify yourself."

Andie stopped scrambling through flying crates and digging through the under-seat bins for supplies and jumped at the voice that appeared inside her helmet. Shaking off her surprise, she continued digging for the sealant, grunting with triumph when she found it. "This is Doctor Brainerd, formerly of the Azorian Colony. Commander Tucker has suffered a head injury, and is nearly unconscious. He needs medical treatment right away!"

Archer paused for a moment. "I was under the expectation that Doctor Brainerd was male," he commented. He hadn't expected Trip to spend so much time in a small craft with a female. The change in his expectations left him at a loss.

Andie sighed, fear and panic making her more prickly than usual. "Well, guess what, Captain? Girls can be doctors too! It's a whole new world out there!" She continued to mutter under her breath, still not aware that all her ramblings would be picked up by the larger ship. "Remind me to have a long talk with you later about your grossly inappropriate gender bias, jackass!"

Archer stiffened. "I'll make sure to add that to my schedule," he commented dryly, leaving Andie to realize that her thoughts were not her own at the moment, and unable to restrain the two four-lettered curses that followed that revelation.

Travis tried harder not to giggle.

Archer pursed his lips. "Both of those biological functions are inappropriate at this time," he answered stiffly. "We're making arrangements to transport you both out at this time." He waved at Hoshi to cut transmission, although she continued to monitor the mutterings aboard the broken craft.

Commander T'Pol shook her head. "Due to a heavy magnetic presence, the transporter will not be able to lock onto the life signs aboard the shuttle pod." Her worry at Commander Tucker's injury was due entirely to his importance to the crew, she reminded herself.

"What about the grappler?" Archer turned to Reed, who also shook his head.

"It's impossible to get a lock on the shuttle pod while they are in the midst of that debris. It may take several turns around that eddy, and there may not be enough to grapple with when they finally do come into range. Sensors show that both thrusters are unable to fire." Reed's blue eyes snapped to the captain's attention. "What if I took the other shuttle craft out there?"

T'Pol objected quietly. "The magnetic property of the debris would pull in the second shuttle pod in the same way it pulled in the first."

Malcolm argued with her. "What if the grappler kept the second shuttle out of danger?" He turned to the captain. "If they were to eject their bodies into space as they traversed the eddy, their considerably smaller mass might throw them clear of the eddy. They could be dragged to safety."

Archer hated that idea. That sounded like too many things could possibly go wrong. "Any other suggestions?" he asked the room at large. Nobody said anything. He looked at Malcolm. "Do it," he commanded, and the British tactical officer jumped out of his chair to make the arrangements.

It took a few minutes to relate the intricacies of the plan to the stranded doctor. When Archer had finished, there was dead silence over the communications channel.

"That has to be the worst idea I've ever heard in my whole life," she stated flatly. Sighing, she went on, "What do I have to do?"

The plan was simple. Get outside, jump into the atmosphere at the edge of a swirl of deadly rocks, and hope the tactical officer was good at fishing. Her stomach roiled at the thought.

She did what she always did when something unpleasant needed to be done; she stopped thinking about it as a whole and concentrated only on the next task at hand. First, she had to get herself and Tucker outside. Stepping over to the upward swinging door that she used to enter the shuttle, she pressed the button next to it, and nothing happened. She pressed it again, with the same under whelming results. Crap, she thought.

"What now?" she asked out loud.

She was surprised to find the new voice in her ear had a melodious English accent. "Try the airlock door, doctor," he suggested.

"Fine," she agreed, trying not to panic. "Where's the airlock?" She was really talking more to herself as she glanced around the small yet crowded cabin, but her words translated through the comm channel.

Malcolm was surprised at her lack of knowledge. Starfleet may need participants in its fledgling space program, but surely they didn't spit them out into the great beyond without basic training? "At the rear of the vessel," he directed her, "there's a circular portal on the ceiling?"

He heard grunts and huffing sounds, and assumed she was complying. From his position at the helm of the second shuttle pod, held outside the pull of the dangerous swirl by the ship's grappler, he waited for the hatch to rise. It didn't.

"You may have lost power," he offered, trying to imagine the losses the little ship might have suffered. "Try the manual lock." He didn't even wait for her objections. "Open that panel to the left and release the longest valve. Pull the green conduit and push the portal open."

Around the edge of the massive rolling rocks, he saw the outer door pop off and fly into space, not the airlock door. The shuttle was tumbling around like ice in a blender, but her footing on the lip of the portal seemed secure as did the lever in her grasp that she'd used to pry the door off the remaining hinges that held it to the pod. Rolling around like a barrel, the little vessel drifted slowly around the outer edge and a short distance away, he saw her reach down and release the gravity function of her boots. Arching her back, she tumbled backward into space, holding tightly to an unconscious man while a small silver case tumbled behind them at her feet.

Malcolm was afraid that extra weight would slow down their centrifugal thrust and cursed her for worrying about her luggage at a time like this. They were near the outer edge of the spinning vortex, but passing through the trail of space dust slowed them even further. Fearing their risk would not pay off, Malcolm snapped his own EV helmet in place, and opened the wide side door on the pod. He stepped out into the cold vacuum of space and drifted on a tethered line to the area where his crew tumbled at the edge of madness.

They moved suddenly, crossing a section of space rather quickly, narrowly missing a large boulder that would have crunched them into smithereens. Malcolm breathes a sigh of relief. They had been too far away from the rescue shuttle to warn, and she had her back to him, unable to see the rock heading straight for her. With her hands full of Commander Tucker, she would be unable to reach the thrusters on her EV suit. Despite the lack of sightlines, the strange trio managed to jolt suddenly toward Malcolm and out of danger.

Obviously the doctor had found a way to boost their passage through space. As she neared his location, he admired the silver canister she held in her hand. It was a personal oxygen tank, meant for administering air to victims who could not breathe. A short tug on the release valve and a little extra effort pushed them gently backward. He also noticed that she cradled Commander Tucker in her arms and that she held her small crate between her booted feet. Attached to her glove was a shiny piece of metal that Reed thought he recognized as a piece from under the helm. She was using it as a mirror, and directing them through the debris that she could now see behind her.

A gigantic asteroid rolled past the survivors, its magnetic pull drawing them back toward the debris filled eddy. That crate between her feet, no matter how small, was the first casualty to be caught in its wake. The crate was tied to her waist, and her grip on Tucker slipped as her own luggage anchored her back to the place she sought to leave.

Half-turning her body, she caught sight of Malcolm as he drifted slowly closer to the struggling crew, with his arms outstretched guiding himself with the jetpacks on the EV suit. Andie also rolled over, releasing her cradled grip on Tucker. Taking time she didn't have as she slipped backwards, she positioned him so his back was directly to Malcolm, and reached into a side pocket for a small roll of medical tape. Tucker hovered lifelessly in space, but she had attached a second oxygen flask to his leg and she used the tape to seal the valve open, pushing him back at a swift rate. Malcolm took a second to be impressed at her preparation and attention to detail.

Trip's body collided with Malcolm. Lieutenant Reed secured his arms around his fallen comrade and pressed the button that would rewind the line tethering him to the shuttle, and they both drifted steadily into the relative safety of the second pod. Inside, Malcolm strapped Trip into a chair at the helm, then jettisoned himself back into space to try and reach the doctor before the enormous pull of the growing eddy drew her back to be crushed under rocks. Enterprise with its interlocking grapplers orbited near the eddy, trying to keep up with the small pod and its precious life signs.

She was hovering at the edge of spinning rocks, struggling to maintain her grip on the case. Malcolm drifted up beside her, disappointed that he couldn't see her face because she hadn't turned on the light inside her helmet. Maintaining an iron grip on the case, she shook the silver canister in her hand, but no more oxygen would be coming out. Malcolm grabbed for her arm. He was at the absolute end of his tether, and was just shy of touching her.

That accented voice whispered in her ear again. "Doctor, we can't remain out here any longer." Peering around the edge of her helmet as best she could, she saw the crewman beside her. Reaching out with one hand, she held tight to the case with the other. When she saw he couldn't reach, she offered the empty oxygen canister. Gripping the smooth silver tightly he pulled her closer until he could feel her hand inside his glove. He gripped her fingers with a strength that would probably hurt tomorrow.

Slowly he pulled her closer to him. His hand closed more fully on her upper arm, but she refused to let go of her travel case. "The extra weight is a detriment to our survival," he told her.

Her voice was determined. "It travels with me. If I go, it goes with me. If it stays, so do I."

His jaw clenched at her unrelenting stubbornness. Pressing the button that activated the wench, he gripped her arm with enough force to make her eyes water, but she didn't make a sound out loud. They slid out of the path of the vortex and into the second shuttle craft. Malcolm closed the door and took over at the helm. The grappler hook retracted, pulling the shuttle nearer the starship and out of the magnetic pull before breaking releasing it to fly on its own to the launch bay doors underneath the larger vessel.

Andie didn't wait. As soon as pressure was resumed inside the craft, she pulled Trip's helmet off and tugged off her own gloves. Pulling something out of one of the fingers of her glove, she chewed briefly on the green leaf and used her thumb to smear the paste across the gash on Trip's temple.

Malcolm cringed silently at the treatment, thinking it was the sort of thing that Phlox was likely to do on a moment's notice. The shuttle rocked gently as it was picked up by the docking arm and raised into the bay. The doors closed the pod inside the larger vessel and lights turned green as pressure was reinstated to the room.

The second it was habitable, the doors flew open and several crew rushed into the room. A Denobulan hurried forward and scanned Trip for injuries. Two med-techs were brought forward to lash the engineer to a litter and carry him to Sickbay, escorted by a Vulcan. Malcolm Reed pulled off his own helmet and turned to meet the newest passenger.

Andie pulled her helmet off her sweaty head. Her body was shaking with the aftermath of adrenaline. Her wide eyes were especially dark, like a starless night, when she turned to smile at the tactical officer. "Make sure Phlox receives that crate immediately," she told him anxiously. "It's important that he reviews the contents as soon as possible."

A commanding voice barked at the two. She recognized the voice of authority from the comlink and the deferential way that the others in the room backed away from his path. Andie breathlessly stepped forward, holding the helmet under her arm. "Doctor Andrea Brainerd reporting for duty, Captain," she smirked, once again emphasizing the 'uh' at the end of her name. "Permission to come aboard?"

Jon raised his eyebrows at her. Her attitude was dreadful, but she had just been instrumental in saving the life of his Chief Engineer. "Permission granted," he replied warily. "As soon as Phlox has cleared you through medical, come to my ready room."

She eyed him with guardedly and replied carefully, "As you wish, Captain."

Phlox stepped forward and clucked his tongue as he waved a scanner over her form. "You've picked up a bacterium, I'm afraid," he informed her. "You'll have to spend some time in the decontamination chamber."

Moving in the direction he indicated, Andie protested, "Where did I pick up bacteria?"

"It appears to be aquatic in nature," Phlox was heard telling her as he showed her into the chamber and directed her to her treatment.

Most of the rest of the crew departed. Archer looked at Malcolm. "She's younger than I expected. What do you think of her?" he asked, curious to hear the response of the least trusting member of his crew.

Malcolm considered the question carefully. "She seems...resourceful," he finished uncertainly.

Jon couldn't help but be skeptical. That was damn near glowing praise from the Brit, but his hesitation was unusual. "Thanks for your help, Malcolm. Let's see if we can't retrieve the other pod, huh?"

The two men disappeared into the bowels of the ship hoping to get the mess cleaned up fairly quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**The New Doctor**

**By Lieuten Keen**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them, except Andie. I just take them out for a spin now and again.

Set in Season 4 just after _Kir'Shara_. There's six months between the Vulcan Civil War and the Conference at Babel One. I'm making the most of that time.

**A/N**: Drinking, smoking, cursing, kissing and kicking butt are a few of my favorite things. Please read responsibly.

* * *

When Andie was released from the Decon chamber, she slipped into the formless gray patient pajamas, pulling a white lab coat around her shoulders, and padded into the main Sickbay with her shower fresh hair combed slickly back from her face. She found Archer and Phlox discussing the patient, who was conscious, but woozy. Porthos reclined on his hindquarters and scratched his ear indolently. He took one look at the newcomer and wagged his tail.

"We have got to do something about that decon gel! That stuff is nasty!" She smiled at Phlox, who was quick to remind her of its healing properties. His defense made her wrinkle her nose in dissatisfaction even as she beamed at him and turned to Trip.

"So it appears that you'll live after all," she teased, moving into view on bare feet. "That's good to know."

Trip grinned sloppily from his bio-bed. "You, too," he mumbled. Tucker did indeed have a concussion. His vision refused to focus and his diction was slurred, but Phlox had insisted on a creature with healing properties to bring down the swelling and he lay in bed with a large wet mass pulsing on his forehead. Fortunately, he was also sedated and unaware of the creature. The squishy antidote didn't seem to phase the new doctor at all.

She knelt and the dog trotted to her outstretched hand. "Who's a good dog?" she crooned. Porthos wiggled under her scratching fingers, eager to demonstrate that it was indeed him that was the good dog. He immediately rolled over for tummy rubs to the consternation of his captain.

"Puppy, puppy, puppy," Trip babbled quietly, making exaggerated sounds with his lips. "Puppy pees in my shoes. Shoes, sheeeyouoesss." The group ignored him.

The petite blond turned to Phlox. "I hope you had a chance to look at the contents of that case I sent to you," she ventured politely, trying not to notice Archer's thunderous brow out of the corner of her eye.

"I did indeed," Phlox rocked back and forth on his heels. "Everything was fine. They were warm, breathing easily and, I do believe, sleeping," he smiled briefly.

Andie sighed with relief as she stood. "It must be wonderful to be so secure with your place in the universe that you can sleep through such a calamity," she grinned.

Phlox agreed. Archer and Trip looked puzzled. Phlox nodded to the case, still sitting off to one side, and Andie went over and pulled out a very sleepy golden-eyed gray cat with white feet. The cat curled happily into her mistress' arms and blinked at the light and the attention. An orange head popped out of the box and a streak of color leaped out and began to wash his hindquarters.

"Kitties!" Trip crowed. He reached out a hand and waggled his fingers but the felines ignored him.

"You brought cats," Archer noted stupidly. Porthos hurried over to investigate and he and the orange cat sniffed each other distrustfully. A paw whipped out and struck the too inquisitive nose. The injured dog barked sharply.

"Leon!"

"Porthos!"

Andie eyed the dog who surveyed her with wet eyes. "Sorry, buddy. You may be king of the pirates, but he's an emperor. I'm afraid he outranks you." Porthos looked disappointed.

"This is Napoleon," she gestured to the orange male, "and Josephine," she indicated the sleepy gray female. "Jojo likes to nap, but Leon will wander around and look at things. He won't cause any trouble, though, will you boy?" She directed that last question to the young master in question, who dropped the hind leg he'd been washing to squeeze his eyes angelically before returning to his bath. "I understand that we'll be stopping at the Proteus Research Station soon, and I promised some rat-catchers to a scientist there who claimed that rodents were chewing a hole in their supply closet. They'll only be here a short time," she finished, rubbing absently on the soft gray head.

"You brought cats on board," Archer repeated.

"So?" Andie's tone was defensive. "You've got a dog. Do you have something against cats?"

"How did you know about Porthos?" Archer wondered.

Andie raised an eyebrow. "I've been briefed on my current assignment before coming aboard, including perusing the personnel reports. I know what to expect."

Trip smirked quietly at that remark. "Smarty-pantses," he mumbled to himself. He was ignored.

"I don't know what to expect from you," she amended as the captain looked like he would explode. "Is there anything else you want to talk about this morning?" She sounded so innocent.

Phlox coughed quietly into his hand and handed a data pad to Archer. Jon took one look at the report and stiffened his shoulders. "You were intoxicated this morning and missed the presence of the sub-space eddy." His tone was not a happy tone.

"Actually, that's not true," Andie clarified pertly. "_Yesterday_ I was drunk. This morning when we encountered the eddy, I was hung-over. I'm fine now. Thanks to an old family recipe. I hadn't had anything to drink for at least...," she peered around for a clock, "...eight hours."

"I'd like the ingredients for that elixir, if it wouldn't be too much trouble," Phlox interjected.

Andie smiled. "It would be my pleasure," she beamed. "It may come in useful, sooner or later." She snuck an arch look at the captain as she said it.

Archer didn't appreciate her humor at all. "_Enterprise_ does not allow the consumption of alcohol while on duty," he insisted.

"I wasn't on duty," she corrected him again. "I was celebrating the end of High Summer as is the custom of the Azorian people. The General was generous to gift me with a bottle of _ouza_, and it does not keep well over time. It's meant to be drunk quickly." Her chin jutted out and her shoulders squared. The gray cat sensed the increasing tension and wriggled out of the girl's arms and hopped back into her carrying case where she was sure to find a soft pillow.

"You may not have been on duty, but he was!" Archer pointed at Trip.

"He'd been on duty of at least sixty hours straight! You can't expect him to work under those conditions!" Andie's voice was rising just like Archer's.

"I expect him to navigate around an eddy!" Archer barked. "Your intoxication almost cost you your lives!"

"The eddy didn't register on the star charts! Am I supposed to have supernatural senses to detect such an occurrence? And we were intoxicated _yesterday_!"

"If you hadn't been asleep you would have heard the proximity alarms!"

"So now I'm reckless because I was sleeping?" Her tone dropped to a sarcastic note. "I'd been up for almost two days before that, I can't imagine why I couldn't just stop sleeping for a week."

"You were up for two days, doing what, exactly?" Phlox interrupted. He was rocking back on his heels, thoroughly enjoying the shrieking, an unusual occurrence on this ship.

"Giving birth!" Andie snapped. She would have laughed at the way Archer leaped back from that pronouncement as though pregnancy might be contagious, but she was in no mood for foolishness at the moment.

"You gave birth?" he asked in a choked voice.

"No, Jackass," she rolled her eyes. "I mid-wifed about two hundred births in the last six weeks! All that breathe, push, 'it's a gender' crap is exhausting!" The weariness was beginning to register.

"So your idea of relaxation is to drink an entire bottle of liquor?" Archer gritted out through clenched teeth.

Snorting in exasperation, Andie pulled an empty cylinder from her baggage and threw it at the captain. It was half as long as his forearm, and no further around than two of his fingers. He thought a bottle of beer might hold more liquid.

"What's this?"

"It's the empty bottle," she eyed him.

It wasn't enough to get anyone drunk, let alone two full grown adults. His scowl deepened. He didn't think he was going to like his new doctor, and he wondered if it was too late to contact Admiral Gardiner and make a change. "No more drinking!" he pointed an angry finger at her before stomping out of the room.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, duh," she muttered to herself. "We finished the bottle."

Phlox watched the captain go with some consternation. "Your bedside manner needs some work," he commented carefully.

"Yeah," Andie agreed cheerfully. "I've heard that before!" She hopped onto a nearby bio-bed and asked the doc if he was ready to start her own medical scan now. Phlox was happy to change the subject.

Andie's bacterium had infected her when she took a short swim in a murky green river, and although it would have created problems if it had time to develop, it had been caught at an early stage and had not been contagious to anyone else. Phlox took a quick look at her various bruises and lacerations from her most recent activities and clucked his tongue again. He administered anti-inflammatory to bring down the swelling in her ankles and a gel to heal her scuffed hands, while cautioning her against any further mountain climbing.

Trip babbled nonsense until Andie suggested that his dosage might be too high. Working together Phlox and Andie discovered that the green Azorian weed she smeared on his head had interacted strangely with the anti-inflammatory that Phlox had given him and they began to filter the toxins out of his system. The Denobulan assured her that it may have saved Tucker's life and they had a long conversation about the reedy plant and its other medicinal uses.

She followed Phlox's every movement as though he was a great celebrity, chattering incessantly about his work. When he regained his right mind, Trip was amused to note that the Denobulan doctor was somewhat intimidated and put on guard by the outspoken young woman. Phlox had certainly put enough people on guard in his lifetime; the payback was worth it.

A couple of hours later Malcolm poked his head into Sickbay. The leech had been removed and Trip lay in bed still, resting quietly in the dim corner, a gray cat snuggled in the crook of his elbow. Malcolm approached him quietly, hoping to avoid waking his friend. Trip's eyes opened anyway.

"I wasn't sleeping," he said with a sigh. "I was just resting with my eyes closed." Much more coherent now, he smiled at his buddy. "I made a new friend." He gestured to the feline. "Say hi, Jojo." The cat yawned and went back to sleep.

"I can see that," Reed sounded bemused. He held out a hand with a steaming mug. "I wasn't sure if you had any breakfast, so I thought I'd bring some coffee," he offered.

"No, thanks," Trip grimaced at the smell of the bitter brew. "You might ask Andie, though."

"Did I hear my name?" chirped a cheerful voice. Andie came around the corner, still wearing the gray scrubs, still wandering around barefoot. She grinned at the dark-haired man in the lab. Trip made the formal introductions.

"You rescued me this morning?" Andie waited for the confirming nod. "I owe you one," she beamed.

"Coffee?" Malcolm offered the second mug, and Andie crossed the distance to cup his face in her hands and plant a loud, smacking kiss on his lips, before pulling away and grabbing the java.

"That's two I owe you," she sighed with relief as she sipped the hot beverage with audible sounds of happiness. Pulling her face out of the mug for a moment, she beamed. "You are my favorite person today." She gulped some more coffee and left with a wave.

Trip grinned at Malcolm's dumbstruck expression. The reserved man stood in exactly the same position he'd been in when she kissed him. "She's very friendly," Trip commented in an exaggeratedly innocent voice.

Malcolm Reed blinked slowly. "She...seems resourceful," he echoed his earlier words to Captain Archer. He seemed to be coming back to life. "She saved your life, you know," he said, looking at Trip, but missing the knowing grin on his friend's face. "She taped an oxygen tank to your leg to drag you out of harm's way."

Trip hadn't heard that part. He and Malcolm chatted for a few minutes about the repairs the shuttle would need, each patting themselves on the back for recommending that all shuttles carry EV suits on a regular basis after they had once nearly been killed in one. Andie came back, and told Lieutenant Reed that Commander Tucker needed to rest, and that he should feel free to come back later. Trip was amused at the way that the quiet man stammered and stumbled his way out of the room, and that Andie didn't even notice.

* * *

Captain Archer was having a really bad day.

First, there was the near disaster this morning with two senior staff members and the shuttle pod.

Second, when he contacted Admiral Gardiner and explained about Doctor Brainerd and her intoxication, the Admiral refused to hear anything further about it. "Cut her some slack, Archer," he gruffed through the view screen in the Ready Room. "She's a good doctor. She really shines in a crisis."

"But she was endangering the life of my crew!" Archer hated talking to Gardiner and wished, not for the first time, that Admiral Forrest was still around. He never felt like he was whining when he talked to Admiral Forrest.

"She was celebrating! How many times in your youth did you show up for duty despite your overindulgence the night before?" Gardiner snapped. "Call me when she's showing up to all her duty shifts incapacitated!" That was the end of that conversation.

And now, here was T'Pol with more news he didn't want to hear.

Archer glared at the report that T'Pol was insisting on filing. He didn't like the information it contained.

"These rocks we were shooting at yesterday were full of what mineral?" he asked again, pinching the bridge of his nose where he felt a headache coming on.

"Magnite," T'Pol answered again, patiently. "It is a mineral found at the core of the asteroids we were blasting, and when exposed by the condensed streams of light and energy, the bared element exuded its own magnetic resonance."

"Its own magnetic resonance," Archer repeated wearily. His day had started badly, early and it didn't seem to be looking up. "It created its own magnetic pull?"

"It appears that way, Captain."

Archer rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "We created the magnetic eddy when we tested out weapons yesterday?"

"It appears that way, Captain."

"Why didn't we know about the magnite core when we scanned the area before testing the weapons?" he asked petulantly.

"The asteroids were large and dense, Captain," T'Pol answered blandly. He kind of hated her for her passivity. "Our scanners were unable to ascertain the possible ramifications of our weapons test."

"Is the power of the eddy diminishing?" he asked hopefully. If nature was taking care of itself, maybe he wouldn't have to tell anyone that this was his fault.

"No, Captain," T'Pol crushed his hopes. "It appears to be growing and drawing in greater resources. If it continues at this rate, even the _Enterprise_ will be at risk."

"Do we have a way to stop it?" he asked wearily.

"The science team is working on it," T'Pol assured him. She left the room at his command.

He sighed. He was going to have to talk to Doctor Brainerd.

* * *

Andie was downright charming in his Ready Room. She'd stopped at the Mess Hall and brought along two cups of coffee and two small plates of cheesecake, despite the fact that it wasn't even lunch time yet. She offered one of each to him with a smile before making herself comfortable on the chair in front of his desk. It irritated him that her feet were still bare.

Most people waited to be asked to sit in the presence of the captain, he sulked to himself. He furiously dug into his cheesecake and swallowed a mouthful of sweet treat. It was very difficult to be nasty when eating dessert, he discovered. He wondered if she knew that before she entered the room.

He explained the situation, and Andie listened intently, sipping and eating while he told her about the magnetic cores. He apologized stiffly for telling her that she was careless, as it seemed that he had been the careless one.

She leaned back in her chair when he'd finished and studied his face carefully. "Gardiner wouldn't let you send me home, would he?" she guessed.

Archer jerked. He hadn't told her that part.

"He thinks this post will be good for my discipline." She sighed, bringing her gaze back up to Archer's quickly. "I don't want to disappoint him. He's been good to me," she explained. "I'm a good doctor, Captain. I just like to live every moment like it might be my last. Out here," she gestured out the window behind him at the strange stars hovering near, "every moment might be." She sighed again.

Archer didn't know what to say about that. To his relief, she continued speaking.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I may have a tendency to indulge myself a bit," she mumbled in a low voice. "But I won't be intoxicated on duty anymore, or lure other unsuspecting crewmen into a corrupt and indecent life while on board your vessel." Her tone was flippant, but her face seemed sincere.

Jon looked at her as she studied her feet. "I'll hold you to that. You accepted a position on a starship. We all need to work together, to rely on each other. Our lives depend on it. You know that, don't you?" he asked dubiously.

Her nod was barely perceptible.

She changed the subject so fast he almost got whiplash. "I met your father once. When I was little," she clarified. "He was trying to talk my dad into being a part of the Warp Five project. My dad had other ideas," she admitted carefully. "But your dad was very kind and warm. He gave me a peppermint that he kept in his pocket, and he remembered my name, even years later." Her smile was small. "He was a gracious man, and I look forward to serving with his son." Pulling a small pouch out of her pocket, she dropped it on the counter in front of Archer.

"I met your father, too," Archer added, looking up at her. "He's very...impressive."

"That he is," she murmured noncommittally. There was a pause as they both considered their parental figures.

"Malcolm says you had trouble with the shuttle pod doors?" Archer said the first thing that came to his mind to break the silence.

"Yes. They were broken." Her answer was innocently sweet.

"But you found a way out?"

"As with many things, Captain, it really only needed one swift kick. I had this radio once..." she started to warm to her subject until she caught his expression. "Er...nevermind. You wouldn't be interested." She fell blissfully silent, although she kept swinging her foot as she sipped her coffee and her whole body swayed with the movement.

"If you need a refresher course in Starfleet procedures...?"

"I don't need a refresher," she interrupted.

"Like how to open doors or how not to interrupt your captain..."

"It's just...oh, sorry." She saw him looking at her and added a quick "sir," to the end of that sentence.

He eyed her silence expectantly and when he didn't jump right in, she did.

"It's just that I couldn't use the airlock. My case wouldn't fit through it. I needed a bigger portal."

He refrained from shuddering in distaste. "Those cats..."

"...are going straight to the research station."

Obviously she wasn't going to take the hint about interrupting. Her foot still wiggled and jiggled her whole body.

"Sit still!" he barked irritably.

"I am," she sounded puzzled. The foot still wiggled.

This was useless. "Dismissed!" he barked.

At the door she paused to add thoughtfully, "A fever can be dangerous, but it's really just a symptom of a larger bug. You have to treat the larger problem before the smaller incidents will go away. Did you know refrigerator magnets lose their ability to stick when exposed to extreme heat?" She waved a little as she left, taking her plate and cup with her, leaving Archer to frown over her random remarks. He looked at the cloth bag she left.

Inside the small pouch was a large supply of peppermints. Jon tried not to be touched at her gesture. Even the smell reminded him of his father. He reminded himself that she was rude and out of control, and that she'd been here this morning so he could take her to task. Jonathan wasn't sure if that had been a successful mission or not. He called T'Pol back to his Ready Room though.

And considered commanding the doctor to switch to decaf.

* * *

An hour later things were closer to normal. Without having to worry about human life, the retrieval of the shuttle was easier. Malcolm had been delighted to use the phase cannons to blow apart the larger rocks, and fired the grappler at the pod as it came around. Dragging it through the mess of rock and ice damaged it further, but when it was out of the eddy, they reversed the engines on the ship and backed away until the transporter could be used to bring the ship into the launch bay. The destruction of the larger sources of magnite, in turn, destroyed the stronger magnetic currents surrounding the asteroid belt. It seemed that by knocking out the larger problem, they cured their more immediate concerns.

Lieutenant Kelby was kept busy with the transporter, pulling in all the things that might have drifted outside the shuttle. The most noticeable were four cases that had been secured together. They appeared to hold things belonging to the new doctor, and were sent to the cargo bay until they could be identified and claimed.

In the late afternoon, Trip watched Andie pack her cats into their temporary quarters in Sickbay. Both officers were both being released from medical leave, and Andie was about to see her new quarters for the next six months. Trip was especially happy to leave. He'd had all he could take of Andie and Phlox whispering and giggling about remedies and weeds. Apparently she was a big fan of his.

He cringed, remembering all the giddiness.

"_I snuck away from my post a couple of years ago to attend the Interspecies Medical Conference on Dekendi III. I heard you would be there, and I was hoping to discuss your thesis on the homeopathic treatments you discovered on Amebus IV. I was so sad to miss you."_

"_There was a medical emergency aboard ship. My presence was needed here. We could discuss them over dinner some evening, if you like."_

Then they argued for an hour about the best way to harvest the larvae of some bug for anesthetic properties.

"_Humans seem to have such reservations about sexuality."_

"_I'll be happy to fill you in on anything you want to know."_

"_Can I watch?" _

Trip cringed when he heard that request and waited for Andie to freak out. She didn't.

"_We'll see how my significant other feels about that."_

He cringed again.

Then they chatted forever about their favorite kind of heated beaker.

Trip was more than ready to be released. Jojo seemed to share his frustration; her eyes crossed every time they mentioned pharmaceuticals, and she kneaded the blankets on Tucker's bio-bed nervously.

The double doors swung open and Lieutenant Reed strode through the door. Malcolm hated Sickbay. Even when he was ill, it nearly took a command from the captain to get him through the door. His presence here, for the second time, surprised Trip, until he noticed the second steaming mug in the shorter man's hands. He fought the urge to giggle.

Andie returned from the back wearing soft cloth slippers. Phlox had been urging them on her feet all day long. It appeared the Denobulan finally won this round.

"Your cases have been retrieved and sent to your quarters," Malcolm informed her, after the somewhat formal greetings. Well, formal on his part; Andie just accepted the coffee with a cheerful smile. She turned away and didn't see the Brit's face fall at the lack of lip action. "If you're unsure of the layout of the ship, I'd be happy to escort you?" he offered.

Andie accepted easily, turning to Trip to see if he was coming. Trip hopped off the bed with relief.

They stood and waited for the turbo-lift to descend to their level.

"You had a lot of luggage." Reed was nervous and overcompensated for that by standing at attention and refusing to shift restlessly as he truly wanted to do.

"Yes," Andie nodded. "I believe there were six cases in all." She sipped her beverage.

"You must take a lot of supplies with you. You probably need a lot of things. It must take a lot of supplies to look the way you do." He realized he'd left his mug in Sickbay. He wondered if it would be rude to run back and get but figured by the time he reached it, his tea would be cold.

Andie looked thrown by that comment, but merely grunted in acknowledgement. Behind them, Trip snickered to himself.

"There's a gymnasium on board," he suggested helpfully. "It's on F-Deck. You should make a habit of using it. It's very well equipped." He had no idea what she might do to fill her off-duty hours, but since he spent a lot of time in the gym himself, he thought he might like to see her there.

A frown line appeared in the center of her forehead as she processed his words, trying to decipher any hidden meaning. She'd consumed a large tray of breakfast this morning, but surely the armory officer wouldn't know that. Unless his job as security officer made him paranoid enough to check on these matters, she pondered. Maybe it was the white lab coat that added pounds to her waistline, she decided. She made a mental note to remove it soon.

"I'll keep that in mind," she commented in what she hoped was a neutral tone, stepping inside the turbo-lift as the doors opened. She was a tad annoyed that he naturally followed her into the confined space. She was even more annoyed when he continued making small talk all the way to her new quarters. It occurred to her to wonder if the captain had sent the chief tactical officer to keep an eye on her and pump her for information. She was relieved to reach her cabin.

Stepping into the narrow gray room, she turned slowly, giving the narrow room a definite once over.

"I'm sure this will meet your needs," Malcolm babbled. He found that he was unable to refrain from babbling in her presence.

"I'm sure it will be sufficient," she murmured, rapping a knuckle on the longest wall. "Is there a protein resequencer in here?" she asked, tracing fingers along the desk.

"Nobody's quarters have resequencers," A familiar drawl made them both note the Commander standing in the doorway.

Malcolm shook his head stiffly in agreement. "You'll have to take all your meals in the Mess Hall. If you're hungry we could go now, although I thought a steward brought you lunch?" He stammered. He huffed silently at the intrusive presence of his friend, but she caught the movement of his chest out of the corner of her eye.

"In a hurry to see my backside, huh?" she teased. "I'm not hungry at the moment though, tough guy? You'll have to try me again later."

Malcolm was suddenly sure that he wasn't going to like her. She wasn't that cute. She was flippant and brash. He wondered if she was trying to get thrown out of Starfleet. "You have a lot of cats," he noted. He decided he hated cats.

"Well, I prefer the company of cats. Cats are cleverer than most humans," she mentioned sweetly. "Present company excluded, of course."

He thought of all the fancy places she must have lived, in a life that was charmed by the accomplishments of her famous father. "I'm afraid that accommodations won't be anything like what you're used to," Malcolm struggled in vain to utter something that didn't sound as though he needed remedial English. He failed.

Her gaze turned icy, making him squirm. She was getting tired of his oddities. "What do you know about me, English, that makes you so certain to what I'm accustomed?" Lips curled upward in an effort to relieve the chill of her question, but Malcolm balked at her tone and stood up straighter.

"We run a tight ship, and I'll thank you to refer to me as such!" he hissed, squaring his shoulders.

Now she looked puzzled. "You want me to refer to you as 'tight ship'?" A wicked smile danced in the corner of her eyes.

"My name," he bit out, "is Lieutenant Reed." He felt his cheeks burning at her jest. He was always so confounded by women; yet this was humiliating on his ship where he holds a position of authority and in front of a superior officer to boot. He sputtered as he turned on his heel and left her alone with the southerner.

A tiny wrinkle of perplexity marred her forehead as she studied his retreating back. "He's a little high strung," she remarked softly.

"You have no idea," Trip nodded. "Just wait until you step into his armory."

"I can't wait to see his guns," she murmured. Realizing that her comment might be inappropriate, she turned back to Trip and smiled politely. "A ship this size must carry a sizable arsenal. Forty-five missiles?" she queried.

"We recently installed the photonic torpedoes," Trip clarified. "And forward and aft phase cannons on retractable turrets. I helped install 'em," he bragged. "You like weaponry?" he asked. She seemed too delicate to be a hunter.

"I like to know that I'm well-defended," she demurred. "Is this really the first working Warp Five Engine?"

Trip was more than happy to tell her all about it as he took her on a quick tour.


	4. Chapter 4

**The New Doctor**

**By Lieuten Keen**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. I just take them out for a spin now and again.

Set in Season 4 just after _Kir'Shara_. There's six months between the Vulcan Civil War and the Conference at Babel One. I'm making the most of that time.

**A/N**: Drinking, smoking, cursing, kissing and kicking butt are a few of my favorite things. Please read responsibly.

* * *

After she spent the afternoon unpacking and putting her cabin to rights, Andie took a quick nap and a shower. Commander Tucker had informed her there would be simple reception in the Mess Hall to welcome her while he helped her access her computer and security logs. She already had messages waiting. She waited until Tucker had gone to his own room before listening to the three missives.

The first was from Admiral Gardiner, offering congratulations on her appointment, however temporary, on _Enterprise_. He chided her gently to be good and signed off.

The second was a long letter from a group of scientists back on Earth. While on a deep space ship, Andie had promised to further their research by conducting tests for their most recent scientific hypothesis. She was scheduled to set up an old-fashioned greenhouse on board and perform a series of actions while watching things grow under stressful conditions. The scientists were young and eager to learn, and their communication was full of information, both pertinent and random. Andie signed off, amused at their letter.

The third was also from Gardiner, who admonished her with his overly large eyebrows that her good conduct was important to this mission and she couldn't spend all her free time soused. He also expressed relief at her continued good health in light of the circumstances that had brought this lecture to bear. His concern brought a small smile to her face.

At the appointed hour, the chime rang and without leaving her bathroom, Andie hollered a welcome. She heard the door open as she spit toothpaste into the basin. "I hope Archer isn't a stickler for decorum," she called as she put on her shoes. "My uniforms didn't escape the eddy unscathed, and they won't be returned from the laundry until tomorrow morning. My civvies will have to do. You didn't tell me that Archer was such a..." She entered her quarters to find someone other than the tall blond engineer.

"Oh," she started. "Lieutenant Reed, is there something wrong?"

The blue-gray eyes studied her figure in silence. She wore a long red dress with a slit that exposed most of one leg. Tall heeled sandals peeked out from under the hem. He raised his eyes to her face and realized she'd been staring at him with an amused glint in her eye.

"Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?" she queried again. Her knowing smile jerked him out of his study.

Clearing his throat, Malcolm pulled himself to attention. "Commander Tucker was detained in Engineering. He asked that I escort you to dinner so you wouldn't be late for your meal with the captain. He'll join you shortly." His tone was painfully curt.

"How very thoughtful," she murmured dryly. "Doesn't anyone realize he hasn't been cleared for duty until tomorrow?" Picking up a colorful wrap from her bunk, she waved Reed out the door ahead of her. In turn, he paused and waved her through first.

"Nobody has ever been successful at keeping Trip out of Engineering, no matter the circumstances," Malcolm assured her. "That's a lovely blanket on your bunk." Mentally he kicked himself for letting slip that he'd been inspecting the intricate pattern of the knitted afghan. He didn't like her, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to be nice.

"Thank you. My grandmother made it for me before she passed."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." They stopped before the turbo-lift. Now he had to be nice if her grandmother died.

"She's been dead awhile," Andie assured him with a smile. "She'd be pleased that you noticed her work." The doors opened and they stepped inside.

A crewman passing through the corridor took one look at the pretty blond and walked straight into the nearest bulkhead with a crash. The doors slid shut and Andie and Malcolm exchanged glances.

"I guess I stand out, huh?" Andie sighed. She looked down at her red dress. "I should go change into something else." Self-consciously she wrapped her red and purple shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"You look fine," Malcolm told her without looking at her at all. "Red is really your color." His cheeks warmed. He didn't like her, he reminded himself.

"That's what they tell me," she murmured enigmatically. She risked a curious glance at him when he wasn't looking. He didn't seem to remember their mutual burst of temper earlier that afternoon. She decided to go with the flow and chalk his previous outburst to his early morning. The Great Powers of the Universe knew that she wasn't her most hospitable after only a few hours sleep!

Entering the Mess Hall, most of the crew turned to look at the newcomers and Malcolm ushered Andie to the right, to the doorway of the Captain's Mess. He stopped her just before he hit the button to request entrance.

"Captain Archer is a what?"

"Excuse me?" Her brows drew together.

"As you left your bathroom you said 'Captain Archer is a...' What is he?"

Color flooded her cheeks. She smiled brightly at Reed. "I was going to say that Captain Archer is very tall," she answered lightly.

"Ah, yes, of course." He didn't believe that, but he had to admire her ability to think on her feet. He opened the door and waved her through, while backing toward the regular line in the Mess Hall.

Inside Andie found Archer seated with a tall slender woman. They both rose at her appearance. Andie explained Trip's absence before nervously explaining again about her laundry. Archer waved away her protests before introducing her to his first officer.

At the sight of the Vulcan, Andie offered a few words in a foreign tongue, complete with a hand signal of three digits.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "You speak Vulcan?" she inquired.

"A little. I like to make a respectful gesture whenever possible," Andie shrugged. She offered a hand for shaking.

"It is very diplomatic of you," T'Pol answered. "Peace and long life." She accepted the handshake briefly.

Archer seemed surprised. "I didn't realize you spoke any Vulcan at all," he admitted.

"Are you sure you're looking at the correct service record?" Andie inquired easily. "If you were expecting my father, then you may be assessing the wrong report."

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing in response. He was determined to be polite. He offered Andie a glass of red wine. She eyed it merrily. "Is this entrapment?" she inquired cheerfully.

"We're not on duty at the moment," he confirmed.

Grinning, she accepted the glass. The three had just sat down when the door swished open and Trip bounded in. "There's a bit of a pickle in Engineering, but I think we got it settled out now, Cap'n." He grinned at Andie. "I hope you made it down here all right?"

"Lieutenant Reed was happy to help." Her mouth smiled, but there were daggers in her eyes.

"Malcolm likes to be helpful," Trip smirked with unrepentant humor, accepting his own glass.

"How's your head wound?" she countered with an unapologetic dig at his mental health. Archer ignored them both and signaled to the kitchen that they were ready.

A steward brought in plates of food from the door connecting the room to the galley. Archer proudly pointed out that a source had indicated that rack of lamb was her favorite food.

Andie nodded and made appreciative noises. Actually lamb was her father's favorite dish. These misunderstandings happened often enough in her life, and she tended to ignore them. She preferred spicy foods, but she ate politely as they made chitchat to get to know one another.

"How is it that your presence came to be requested on a planet humanity has never seen?" T'Pol inquired as she ate her _plomeek_ broth.

"The Azorians were looking for my father," Andie admitted with a rueful smile. "He'd treated them before. They only knew to contact him through Earth and Starfleet is the biggest organization there. Starfleet couldn't find my father and figured I was an acceptable substitute. The Azorians were also taken aback when I stepped out of the transport," she added with an eye roll.

"What did they need help with?" Trip asked, with his mouth full of food.

"The Azorians spend most of their time underground in the extreme heat of the planet's core. They only come above ground to the cooler temperatures to procreate. The General's daughter was experiencing her first mating cycle. He was nervous and wanted an expert on hand." She toyed with her steamed vegetables. "The first time can be tricky," she added calmly.

"Don't they have doctors on hand to take of these things?" Archer asked dubiously, ignoring Trip choking on his meal from laughing. He couldn't imagine a species calling a foreign doctor just for having a few babies.

"My father had helped the General out of a rough spot some years ago. The General felt he would be the best man for the job." She did a fantastic job of looking as though she didn't feel the insult at being found wanting at both of her most recent posts, simply by not being the one they expected her to be.

"You must have performed efficiently," T'Pol spoke quietly. "The Azorians hailed us to say that your assistance was invaluable."

"Sappha's birth went off without a hitch," Andie agreed.

Archer was finding out that, although she was perfectly polite, her answers were short and to the point. He supposed it was to be expected when everyone had expected someone else. It seemed that this young woman would spend her whole life living in the shadow of her much respected father. He could appreciate that, as he was himself the son of a famous warp engineer.

"It's a pity the General's son didn't take off without a hitch," Trip joked.

Andie grinned. "We had our disagreements," she mused.

"Trip tells me that you risked your life to save his when his shuttle crashed on Azoria," Archer fished for confirmation.

"Actually I risked my life to assist the two females he took with him on his reckless abuse of power-trip," she corrected sassily. "It was most unfortunate that he, Midden, took so unkindly to my service."

"There was a fistfight?" Archer probed.

"Precarious footing and adverse weather," Andie clarified. "He pushed, I fell."

"How lucky that you were an accomplished mountain climber," Archer added sardonically.

"It was lucky that I fell on the left Tower," she amended. "There are many reachable handholds. It's practically like climbing a ladder. The right side would have been regrettable. It's nothing but sharp edges and water slicked stone. I would have been stuck there overnight."

"Well, then I guess it's good you can keep your head in a crisis," Trip reassured her, stealing a glance at the captain for his heavy handed inquisition.

"Panic tends to lead to misfortune," she added calmly. "I've learned that the hard way." Another white coated steward entered from the kitchen to clear the plates. "I see that our interrogation has reached an end. Perhaps we can finish this another time?" Her attitude was poised when she made the remark. Her smile remained in place. "It's been a long day."

Captain Archer wasn't used to being dismissed on his own ship. He looked uneasily at Trip, ignoring the gash that still marred his friend's forehead. "Dessert is scheduled in the Mess Hall," Jon announced. "I thought you might like to meet some of the crew before starting work tomorrow."

Pushing aside her weariness, Andie smiled graciously. She had forgotten about the small reception. "That would be lovely, Captain." She rose and the others followed her lead. Archer frowned as he stood.

He escorted her through the doors where a great many crewmen waited to meet the new doctor. Archer spoke a few words of introduction, making sure to mention that the Doctor Brainerd that would be with them for six months was actually a woman, not the legendary man that spurned the request of the greatest minds to lead the fledgling Starfleet Medical through its infancy stage.

In turn, Andie Brainerd reminded the crowd to refer to her as 'Andie' and promised to make a really long boring speech at some other time when there wasn't an enormous and delicious looking chocolate cake waiting for consumption. Her speech brought forth a few chuckles and most people were happy to turn and help themselves to a slice of pastry before accosting the semi-famous medic.

The faces blurred into one another as Andie graciously shook hands and smiled until her cheeks hurt. A young man dressed in a tall white hat and crisp white coat strode out of the galley through the main entrance to shake Andie's hand and ask her how she liked her meal. He spoke in a rough French accent, and Andie obliged him by responding in his native tongue. He was the number two man in the galley and he wanted to hear her thoughts on his meal. She smiled and told him it was perfection.

Hoshi Sato pushed forward. "I'm the communications officer. How many languages do you speak?" she asked eagerly. She overheard the foreign tongues even in the crowded room and hurried over.

"I only know a few greetings in a few languages," Andie assured her as they shook hands. "And, of course, all the dirty words!" Hoshi said something in Italian caused a quick grin to flash across the doctor's face before noticing all the people watching. "We should talk later," she winked at Hoshi.

"Count on it!" Hoshi chuckled.

Trip returned from the punch bowl, pressing a cup in her hand and bringing along a couple of people. The petite female with blue eyes was Crewman Cutler and the tall dark-haired, hawk-nosed male was Ensign Ian Black. They were both listed as medical technicians and would be spending a great deal of time with Andie.

"I've been such a fan of your father's work!" Ensign Black gushed. "He's the reason I became a nurse! Of course, that was before Starfleet lured me in with their promise of exciting research and exploration!"

Andie's smile never faltered as she received the compliments in her father's name. She'd been accepting his adulations for years. "I'm sure he'd be proud to be influencing the medical field in spite of his extended absence from Earth," she assured the young man. "I'll be happy to work alongside someone so dedicated to the health and safety of his patients." Her feet were beginning to hurt. She made a mental note to wear comfortable shoes from now on even as she shifted slightly.

"I'm sure you'll find most of the crew to be dedicated to the same high level of excellence." That smooth British lilt turned her head. Lieutenant Reed stood nearby, just as crisply starched in his Starfleet uniform this evening as he had been early this morning when she arrived.

Andie smiled to acknowledge his presence. "I'm sure that's true," she murmured.

Fading into the background was a specialty of his. Hanging on the outer edges of the conversation, he took in her appearance. Her hair was blond with red highlights, hiding the dark cinnamon underneath. Her eyes were dark gray rimmed in deep blue with green flecks. It was as though her whole appearance couldn't decide what it was supposed to look like and was trying to be several things at once. She was taller than Hoshi, but shorter than T'Pol. At the moment, she was gracious and polite. He hadn't known her long, but he knew that she could curse like a sailor and that she could handle herself in extreme circumstances. There was so much he didn't know about her. He wasn't sure how to protect her if she didn't trust him.

He looked up to find Trip smirking at him and went to fetch another cup of punch, making sure to talk to another crewmember about duties in the Armory when he was finished. When nobody was looking, he snuck glances at the young woman, whose fatigue was growing more evident to him with every moment.

Phlox crowed his enthusiasm for the party going on, and he broke through the crowd around the new doc and offered a plate of cookies for her consumption. She grinned automatically and lifted her own saucer which was so overloaded with treats, that it nearly upset the mug of coffee that rested on it.

Stuck in the heart of the crowd, Andie wished she could go back to her room and curl up with a big book. The noise swirled around her. As the hour grew even later, the changing shifts brought several new people into the room, even as others left. There were still more rounds of introductions. She finally couldn't take it anymore and pleaded space lag as she made her way to the double doors and the quiet corridor.

"Excuse me," Lieutenant Reed appeared at her side before she exited through the doors. "May I escort you back to your cabin?"

Gratefully she allowed him to steer her out the portal and down the hall to the turbo-lift. "If I was paranoid, I'd think the captain sent you on purpose," she muttered as she shifted her feet restlessly.

"Commander Tucker asked that I rescue you before he retired for the evening. It seems you were able to take care of yourself." His inability to quiet his nerves had left him babbling this afternoon. Determined that it wouldn't happen again, he clenched his jaw together to keep his lips shut.

Andie nodded quietly, only murmuring her thanks for his assistance, her smile slipping quietly away. It was clear that he didn't care for this duty, since he was grinding his teeth. They stepped out of the lift, and Andie leaned against a bulkhead briefly while slipping the sandals off her aching feet.

"That's the last time I choose fashion over function," she grimaced before following Malcolm in her bare feet. He frowned but said nothing about her feet.

"I was hoping to hear more about your time with the Azorians," he commented as they turned a corner. "The conversation in the mess hall never seemed to come round that way."

Pausing, she asked, "What do you want to know?" Apparently people made a habit of passing information around to each other. She made a mental note to remember how fast gossip spread.

"I understand they have a military presence on the planet?" he indicated. "The group is led by a General?"

Andie giggled and resumed her walk and Malcolm kept up. "They are a polite and passive people. One might even say plodding. However, General Genarre received his rank by bold and dangerous service to his people!" Her voice was full of good humor when she told him, "He was the first to lead them up through the cave in the spring and the last to lock up when they descend again in the fall!" Malcolm's disappointment was almost palpable, causing more chuckles from the female. "They despise the cold, and he met it fearlessly on more than one occasion, so they elected him general."

"And the son?" Malcolm inquired, hoping to quell his disappointment. He'd just come back from a dangerous mission involving Andorians, Tellerites and a Vulcan civil war. Surely he didn't need to assume everyone was a threat in this life. Of course, life in the Expanse taught him to be cautious. If he didn't take care, people died.

"Midden hopes to lead his people to revolution," she answered, still amused. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to rebel against." She leaned against her door.

"Perhaps that's the reason the proximity sensors were disconnected in your shuttle pod," he remarked casually.

"Excuse me?" she inquired, suddenly less tired and much more alert. Her blue eyes searched his face for a falsehood.

"The sensors were disabled," he repeated. "Perhaps Midden is more dangerous than you believe him to be."

She didn't seem nearly as disturbed as he thought she'd be. Considering how explosive her reaction to Archer's assumption of her gender early today, she seemed relaxed and uninterested that somebody may have just tried to kill her. He had reason to wonder if it wasn't the first time someone had.

"Midden didn't have the chance to sabotage anything," she told him. "He was stuck in a shuttle pod. It may have been some of his cronies. They loaded my luggage as payment of a debt. Azorians don't have space travel. It's likely that they were unaware of how dangerous it would be to disengage the sensors." She shrugged. "No harm, no foul," she finished.

"No harm?" he questioned. "Except to Commander Tucker's head?"

"He's got a hard head," she pointed out with a grin. "I doubt we'll see much of them anymore, so it doesn't seem to warrant further investigation."

He managed to meet her eyes and the world slowed down for a second. Clearing her throat, she broke through the pregnant pause.

"Thank you for the escort, Lieutenant. I'm sure I'll find my way just fine tomorrow." She found he made her nervous and was hoping to forestall any further inquiries he might make. Curiosity could be dangerous.

Nodding, he stepped back. "Welcome aboard, Doctor."

She smiled politely and went inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**The New Doctor**

**By Lieuten Keen**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. I just take them out for a spin now and again.

Set in Season 4 just after _Kir'Shara_. There's six months between the Vulcan Civil War and the Conference at Babel One. I'm making the most of that time.

**A/N**: Drinking, smoking, cursing, kissing and kicking butt are a few of my favorite things. Please read responsibly.

* * *

Trip stumbled out of his quarters the next morning to find Andrea Brainerd leaning indolently against the far wall, dressed in a pair of dark blue scrubs. "How's your head?" she asked, by way of greeting.

"Hurts like hell," he admitted with a small grimace.

Stepping forward, Andie pulled a hypo-spray out of her pocket and Trip offered his neck to the cool metal and familiar hiss. The pain receded and he sighed gratefully. Making notes in a handheld device, Andie looked up absently to invite Trip to breakfast.

"Sounds good," he agreed, and they fell into step together to the turbo-lift at the end of the hall.

"Lieutenant Reed is interesting," she noted while they waited for the conveyance. "I spent the evening perusing his file."

Trip grinned. "Malcolm's a good guy," he insisted. "He's just a little shy and gets tongue-tied around beautiful women." he smirked, confident that he knew the answer to that. Needless to say, he was surprised at the response.

"You're not trying to make a match, are you?" she asked suspiciously. "Is that some sort of joke at my expense?" Her tone ended with a hiss that was echoed in the door that slid open.

"No, I just meant that it might take him some time to warm up to you. You know, because you're pretty," Trip noted cautiously. He pushed the correct button. He smiled at his own compliment, designed to soothe the angry woman.

"I'd prefer it if you stayed out of my love life, Commander," she stated specifically. "It'll make it much easier for me to stay out of yours." Her sweet tone covered the steely look in her eyes.

"Are you threatening me?" he asked in amused disbelief.

"Threatening you?" she queried with a falsely innocent look. "No, I never make idle threats. But if your interference makes me blissfully happy, I'll feel compelled to..." she paused for effect, "..._interfere _in your love life in order to make you just as happy." There was a hard tone underlying her friendly words.

"Don't," he forced the protest out through lips suddenly frozen. The amusement was suddenly gone from his tone. His love life was a mess at the moment.

She went on as though she hadn't heard him. "Of course, on a ship this size it won't take me any time at all to determine who caused so much girl trouble that you spent three days in a shuttle with a stranger."

"Don't, Andie," he warned again.

She took one look at his pale face and fixed him with an even look. "I won't touch your love life if you keep your mitts off mine," she stubbornly insisted.

"Fine!" he snapped. "Can't imagine anybody who'd want'a have anythin' to do with you annyway!" His accent got stronger when he was annoyed.

Andie glared up at him. "I haven't had enough coffee this morning to put up with sarcasm yet," she grunted, stomping around the corner without him.

Trip was confused. "I wunnit being sarcastic a'tall!" he snipped, following her around the corner.

There was a crowd at the door, peering into the empty room, whispering to each other in quiet murmurs. Several crashes and awkward screeches could be heard from across the room, behind the swinging door. Trip understood immediately.

"All right, people!" he clapped his hands for attention. "You know the drill! Somebody call the captain! And Hoshi!" he added as the loud squeals of French could be heard, even from this distance.

Andie had pushed her way to the front of the line and was threatening bodily harm to the handsome young man who restrained her from entering the room to get her morning fix.

"There's coffee in there and you're keeping me from it!" she snapped.

Nodding at Mayweather, Trip explained carefully to the new doctor, "Chef is...having a moment. It's best if we wait here."

"But the coffee is in there!" she protested. "I can smell it!" Staring longingly at the beverage dispenser lined with clean white mugs, she wet her lips. "I'll take my chances," she decided, stepping through the doorway and shaking off the hands that tried to hold her back. Striding into the room she helped herself to a cup of java before slapping open the door to the main galley and demanding to know what was going on.

She was met by a sauté pan flying at her head, and in ducking the missile, she dropped her hot coffee on the floor in a wet crash that shattered the mug and scattered her morning brew.

"That's it!" she shrieked at the observers in the room. "Get out!"

A young man on her left tried to warn her of the dangers of Chef's temper, but she held up her hand with her flat palm toward him, indicating that he was talking to a wall.

"I'm about to kick the ass of the person who threw that pot at my head, and I'll take on anybody who stands in my way! Get! Out!" Her voice raised in volume, echoing around the stainless steel kitchen.

Half a dozen young men decided that her temper was worse than the Frenchman's and scrambled for the door, leaving her to face the wrath of a rugged man cursing in French. The door swung shut ominously and cut off the altercation from view.

They joined the huddled masses hovering around the entrance to the Mess Hall. From inside the galley, there was another heavy metallic crash, followed by a scraping sound that rattled the teeth of every one who heard it. There was an exchange of angry voices, both speaking rapid angry French, then a smaller clang. A few seconds later, there was a violent shriek.

In the ensuing minutes, silence filled the void, giving way to uneasiness of the group that waited for breakfast. Archer appeared, with Communications Officer Hoshi Sato trotting along behind him.

"What's going on?" he demanded briskly. He felt guilty knowing he'd chosen a chef whose temperament was questionable because what that man did to a couple of eggs was close to heaven on earth, but he would not let his own recriminations show before the crew.

"Don't know," Trip admitted from the head of the line. "It's been quiet in there a while. They might both be dead." He nodded solemnly, enjoying the gasps of horror behind him. He did enjoy a sense of the dramatic.

"Both?"

"Doctor Brainerd."

"Let me through," Archer stepped through the crowd. "I'll get this figured out."

The kitchen door slid open and Archer poked his head through the opening. "Is everything all right in here?" he asked apprehensively. There were two sauté pans littering the floor near the door, and someone had twisted one of Chef's favorite knives into a hanging ornament. He was genuinely surprised to find the culprit still alive, and finishing the last of a spinach omelet.

"Fine," Andie switched to English as she swallowed the last of her coffee and slid off the stool. "Chef and I were getting acquainted. He cooked for my father once." She beamed at Chef. "_Merci beaucoup_ for breakfast. See what you can do about the coffee situation though, huh?" she teased, waving her empty mug around.

Archer felt dumsquizzled. "What the hell's going on? Why didn't you tell me you knew Doctor Brainerd?" he asked the cook.

The activities of the morning was too much for the temperamental man and realization sunk in slowly, followed by Chef's brown eyes sliding back into his head even as his body slid slowly to the ground in a dead faint.

"Damnit!" Andie cursed loudly. "I was going to wheedle some more espresso out of him!" She muttered unpleasant things under her breath as she knelt beside the fallen man and ran her medical scanner over his prostrate form. She drew a hypo from her pocket and programmed a small dose of something that made Chef's eyes flutter when it was administered.

"That was handy," Archer noted her readiness with the medical tools.

Andie's forehead creased. "I always carry a few things around in case of emergency: bandages, pain relief and smelling salts. I hope that's all right with you?" she asked absently.

"I'm hardly going to object," Archer nodded to the fallen man.

The door behind him slid open and Trip poked his head in. "I thought you carried it around just for me," he teased, standing next to Archer. He gestured behind him and a slender woman stepped through the door. "I see Chef fainted again."

"I'm the communications officer," Hoshi explained. "I'm usually called in to translate for Chef. We met briefly last night." She eyed the new doctor with interest. "What happened to make him faint?"

Andie said something in French that made Hoshi brighten up and answer in a language that was neither English nor French. Both women chuckled.

Hoshi grinned in return. "We should get better acquainted," she restated again.

"Definitely," Andie smirked, noting the bewildered looks of the two conscious men with amusement. "Dinner?"

"Done!" Hoshi agreed.

Their amusement was short-lived however, as the door swung open again, this time bringing forth a sable-haired man holding a dangerous looking pistol.

"Step away from the chef!" Malcolm demanded.

Andie looked up at him with cool merriment, and continued to cradle the fallen man's head against her middle. "I will do no such thing," she told him calmly, with a faint trace of bitterness for the man who seemed to stalk her every move with prejudice.

"Put the pistol away, Malcolm!" the captain demanded.

"I heard the new doctor was flaying the cook alive!" Malcolm protested.

"Chef fainted and Andie was giving him medical attention," Trip informed him.

Malcolm glanced in the direction of the two on the ground. "It looks like she's smothering him." He was all too aware of the lack of room between Chef's nose and her womanly curves as she knelt over the cook.

Andie caught the direction of his gaze and dropped Chef's head on the ground. He'd been coming around slowly, but the sudden smack to his noggin made him moan and fade out again. Andie sighed in frustration. "He was nervous about cooking for a new doctor, and things got a little out of hand," she sighed, starting the procedure of reawakening the fallen man over again. "All I wanted was some coffee," she muttered darkly.

Malcolm stiffened upon hearing her intent. "You seem to go to a lot of trouble for that beverage," he snorted derisively. "You'll entertain anyone to get it, too," he added when he noticed Hoshi. "Don't let me keep you." He holstered his weapon and stamped out the door.

Hoshi shrugged in puzzlement before following him, and they could be heard encouraging the others to enter the mess hall, declaring the all-clear.

Archer made sure to note that everybody was all right once more, before leaving the room to wait for his breakfast in his private dining room.

Trip caught Andie scowling furiously at the swinging door. "See?" she hissed. "He's completely untenable! I mean, what crawled up his butt and died, anyway?"

"Well," he offered as way of an explanation, "you did give him a kiss for handing you a cup of coffee yesterday. He's probably hoping you'll do that again."

It took a moment for Andie to remember what he was talking about. "I'd been without a caffeinated substance for about thirty-six hours!" she groaned. "Of course I was happy to see it!"

Trip shrugged nonchalantly. Chef groaned. Andie sighed. "See what you started!" she wailed uselessly.

This was going to get complicated.

* * *

Archer returned to his quarters late in the morning, exhausted from the long hours in his day. The pouch of peppermints was still lying on his desk. After speaking in more detail with Chef about the altercation, Archer was still troubled.

Apparently, Chef's mother was also a great chef. She owned a restaurant in Paris and preparing excellent meals was more than a job but a calling in life. She'd suffered a heart attack while cooking for the world famous Doctor Andre Brainerd and he'd performed life-saving techniques on her. Chef loved his mother dearly and had been beside himself at the idea of cooking for the Great Doctor everyday. He'd actually been forced to take to his bed last evening, the excitement proving too much for him. He'd been stunned when he discovered that he'd be serving Brainerd's daughter instead.

Fearlessly Andie had marched into the middle of the galley, a place most of the crew refused to set foot inside even when Chef wasn't having a fit, and stared him down. She'd threatened to molest his knives everyday if he didn't suck it up and make her breakfast. What was even more puzzling was the fact that Chef loved her for it. He wrung his hands through the entire conversation with the captain, wondering out loud what she might like for breakfast tomorrow. As far as Archer knew, Chef didn't like anybody on board. He certainly never went of his way for them, not even for the captain himself.

Archer stood in front of the window in his quarters, now turning around to study the bag of sweets that still rested on his desk where she'd left them. Who was this doctor foisted on him by Starfleet Command?

At that moment, Hoshi commed from the bridge to tell him that a data stream had been received from Earth, and the personnel file he should have had before his newest crewman came aboard had finally arrived. She sent it directly to his terminal.

Huffing with annoyance, Archer flung his tired body into his desk chair and called up her personnel file. Even in her picture, she seemed to smirk at him. Archer wondered if there had been trouble with the data stream. There was an unusual amount of missing information. There was the usual personal information: full name, the name of the town in Maine where she grew up, name of her father. Her list of assignments was rather extensive; she didn't seem to stay in one place very long. Nearly every one made a notation of her exuberant personality, but they also seemed to recommend her for her subsequent posts with enthusiasm. Beyond her basic Starfleet biography there was very little information about her. Her psych profile listed her as fit for duty, but lacked the usual details normally found there.

Sitting back in his chair, Jon frowned fiercely. Her famous father was mentioned on more than one occasion in her file, as though his accomplishments were superior to her own. In spite of Archer's stubborn wish to dislike her, he began feeling a small kinship with the girl. Most of his efforts hung in the shadow of his father's endeavors, and he could understand the frustration and the battle between pride and shame that living up to the reputation of another might require.

Archer rubbed a hand over his face. A captain had no room for sentimentalism in his job. He should be demanding and powerful. Jon yawned. He picked up a stack of data pads and immersed himself in daily business. Absently, he popped a peppermint in his mouth as he worked.

* * *

"Morning, Phlox!" Andie finally entered the double doors of Sickbay cheerfully, with a silver thermos tucked securely under one arm and a small plate of something that smelled fishy in her other hand.

"Good morning, Doctor Brainerd," the Denobulan answered delightedly.

She stopped at the two new cages near the door and offered some small shrimps to the felines. They gobbled them greedily, purring contentedly.

Turning, she found a full house. Cutler and Black were seated on bio-beds and Phlox beamed excitedly. "I hope you don't mind, Doctor," the Chief Medical Officer began. "I'd like to see how you diagnose new patients."

"This is the audition portion of my assignment, right?" Andie clarified without rancor.

Phlox looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, yes, but I..."

"You're just looking after your patients," she agreed. "It's fine." Stepping over to the first bio-bed, she asked the curly-haired young woman how she felt.

Liz looked a little guilty to be participating in this tryout, but she smiled reassuringly at the young woman before her and recited the list of symptoms that Phlox had provided. "I have a headache and my stomach hurts."

Andie pretended to wave a scanner over Cutler's form and took the data pad from Phlox that contained the information she was supposed to diagnose. "Have you experienced any dizziness?"

Liz looked at Phlox to confirm. "A little."

"Are you getting enough rest and exercise?" Andie glanced at the pad and handed it back to the doctor.

"Er..," Liz knew she didn't spend nearly enough time in the gym. "Yes?"

"Well," Andie smiled a professional smile. "I have good news and bad news. Your symptoms may make you feel bad, but it's nothing nine months wouldn't cure."

"I'm pregnant?" Liz yelped, forgetting for the moment that this was just a drill.

Her reaction was everything that Andie hoped for. She giggled. "Nope! I just thought if you've got fake symptoms, I could offer a fake diagnosis!"

Liz chuckled. "So I'm not pregnant, right?"

"Nope," Andie smiled. "You're probably just suffering from the flu. If this was a real illness, I'd run a full diagnostic scan, looking for elevated levels of dioxin, just to rule out Hynerean Fever. I'd recommend a dose of vitamins and an antiviral."

"That's very good," Phlox beamed. "Not many human doctors have heard of Hynerean Fever. Where did you discover the symptoms?"

"Her father's a famous doctor, Phlox," Liz cut in. "He's traveled farther than any human, and he probably told her all kinds of stories when she was little." Liz looked hopefully at Andie for confirmation. Andie smiled and said nothing. Her father's fame had truly made him the Elvis of the medical profession.

"Your father must be so proud that you've followed in the familial footsteps," Phlox smiled, thinking with pride of two of his children that followed him to the medical field.

"Yeah, he's transported with joy," Andie announced dryly.

Phlox noticed her sarcasm but said nothing further.

She moved on to Ian Black, sitting calmly on the next bed. "How are you feeling?" she inquired.

Ian really got into his project. He placed the back of his hand on his forehead and pretended to be weakened. "I've got a rash, Doc," he fanned himself with his other hand.

Picking up his arm and pushing back the sleeve, Andie saw that Phlox had been busy with latex prosthesis. A tiny circle of red dots decorated Ian's inner arm. Andie reached back for the scanner that Phlox had filled with the pertinent information.

"I have good news and bad news," she told him cheerfully. "You're pregnant!"

"Is that the good or the bad?" he inquired with the same levity.

"Depends," she grinned. "Do you want to go down in history as the first male to procreate?"

"Unfortunately that title is already taken," Phlox murmured from the other side where he watched.

Andie shot a quick glance at him before sobering and studying the results for real. "Have you been on any new planets, opened any cases, ate any new foods?" Ian checked with Phlox before shaking his head in the negative.

"Stress may indicate itself with a rash," she went on. "As long as they don't morph into...hello." Peering down at his arm, she came across a nasty looking pustule. She poked and prodded it with all due seriousness. "This could be something nasty," she murmured. "It looks like an indicator of Tyrellian plague, but...ooops!" The gooey dot slipped off Ian's arm. "It appears to be a food particle," she beamed. "I'll apply some calamine lotion to the others, but get plenty of rest."

"Tyrellian plague?" Phlox mused. "Your father was very thorough with his description of foreign illnesses." The chief rocked back and forth on his heels to indicate his acceptance of Andie's work in his Sickbay.

Just then the door swung open. The medical staff exhaled together in irritation. Ensign Henry Bowman entered and hopped familiarly onto a bio-bed.

"Are you pregnant too?" Andie asked while grinning.

Henry Bowman turned white. "Am I pregnant?"

Sensing that may become a concern, Andie turned back to him in all due seriousness. "The medical staff was teasing me on my first day here. It's nothing, forget about it. What seems to be the trouble?"

Ensign Bowman didn't feel good. He felt dizzy and light-headed and he thought he might be about to faint, so he obtained permission from Commander Tucker to leave Engineering to see the doctor.

Andie scrolled through the long list of complaints that he'd filed since he first joined up. The list was several pages long. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "I think we'll be seeing a lot of each other!"

Behind her Ian and Liz concurred with a roll of their eyes.

"He's a hypochondriac," Ian told her.

"I am not!" Henry objected defensively. "I'm prone to illness. It's genetic!"

"Of course he's not a hypochondriac," Andie glowered at Ian. "It would be a silly and dangerous stunt on a space ship. I mean, life and death occur with alarming frequency out here, and if he cried wolf often enough, he'd be the last to receive accurate medical attention in the event of a real crisis! He wouldn't want that, would he?" She turned to a much paler Bowman for confirmation. "Although," as she continued to peruse the list of complaints in his file, "you might want to consider having your allergen receptors removed." She smiled at Henry. "I see you experience a mild form of hypoglycemia?"

He nodded.

"Did you eat breakfast? Have you been sleeping well?"

He shook his head.

"That's probably the cause. I'd recommend taking two hours to get a healthy lunch and a quick nap before heading back to work. I'll call Commander Tucker and let him know you'll be making up your shift in the later hours of the evening." She turned to her pad.

"But...that will put me under the supervision of Lieutenant Commander Kelby!" he protested. "He hates me!"

"I'm sure that's not true," Andie waved away his protests.

"But it's movie night!"

"I'm sure there'll be another one next week. If the symptoms persist, let me know." She filled a hypo with a dose of vitamins and pressed it against his neck.

"What's that allergen receptor thing?" he wondered in a small voice.

Andie's face lit up. "Oh, it's an experimental procedure where they remove the glands that accept allergens into your system. It's ridiculously painful and the chemo treatment while you're recuperating is almost worse than the diseases, but in the small percentage of successful treatments, the subjects have almost no senses left to affect." She smiled brightly. "It's definitely something you should take up with your physician back home," she assured him, "if it's something that you think will interfere with your work on a regular basis."

Ian snickered as Henry left. "Is there really such a procedure?"

"It's very experimental," Andie told him straight-faced. "I was curious how certain he was of his illness. I see he came aboard rather recently?"

Phlox frowned at her subterfuge, but answered honestly. "He came on after the Expanse, when we were tracking down Doctor Soong."

"Perhaps it's just nerves then," she admitted.

"I think you'll be seeing a lot more of Ensign Bowman," Ian told her darkly. "Way more than you'd like."

She inhaled slowly, thinking about that, then smiled. "Let's get this place tidied up, shall we?" They set to work.


	6. Chapter 6

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 6

* * *

The double doors slid open. Crewman Rostov carried Ensign Mayweather in with one arm over his shoulder. "Medical emergency, doc," Rostov announced in a bored tone.

"Another one?" Phlox stepped forward to direct the sweating Mayweather to be laid at rest on a bio-bed. "Basketball?" he asked, moving for a med-kit.

"Racquetball," Mayweather announced with shame. "We set up a court in the cargo bay. I stepped back to hit the ball and slipped on a loose bolt; twisted my ankle. I cut my hand as I slipped." Mayweather grimaced painfully in greeting as Andie pushed up his cuff.

The med-techs had been dismissed shortly after the orientation, but Phlox and Andie worked together as though they had done it before. She stood at his elbow and handed him implements almost before he asked for them. They spoke in medical jargon while they worked, and Mayweather watched the pretty girl. When they were finished, she pulled a red lollipop out of her pocket.

"Since you're my first real patient aboard this ship, I'd like to commemorate the moment with this," she handed him the treat.

His grin lit up from ear to ear. "Thanks, Dr. Andie!" he enthused. "Maybe I'll get sick more often now!"

"As though that's possible," Phlox teased.

"You know, there won't always be candy," Andie chuckled.

"Sometimes there will only be a head injury from fainting," came the clipped tones of the Englishman as he entered Sickbay. "She seems very adept at causing head injuries."

There was an awkward pause among the three chuckling cohorts as the laughter faded away.

"Lieutenant?" Phlox's voice carried a hint of warning, but Andie cut him off.

"Reed," Andie greeted him dryly. "As you can see, he's lost his head with my bedside manner already." That cocky grin came out of nowhere.

"If you're finished here, I'd like to go over the manifest of the crates you brought aboard," he uttered stiffly.

Her head tilted back in a coquettish challenge. "You're welcome to inspect all my things, Lieutenant," she purred. She had made up her mind to put him on the defensive as much as possible to keep him from getting too personal with her.

He blushed, and stood straighter hoping nobody else noticed. Unfortunately, Phlox beamed broadly behind him.

She excused herself from Sickbay and he waved a hand to indicate that she should lead him to the cargo bay. "I don't know where I'm going," she murmured. "After you," she swept her hand at him. As he moved away, she made an exaggerated show of watching his backside as he strode down the hall. He turned and caught her watching, and glared at her. She smiled sweetly.

They spent the greater part of the afternoon digging through the crates they'd picked up on her behalf from a medical station in orbit near the Jupiter colony. T'Pol joined them after a few hours.

They really delved into the manifest then. "What is all this stuff?" Reed growled, prowling through the crates and fingering the Latin words printed on them.

"Bunch of scientists proffered an idea that plants are especially sensitive to the elements around them, including stress. This greenhouse will be used to determine the extent of emotional depreciation that humans adapt to in space. Doctors want to make sure that extensive space travel won't make you crazy."

"That's ridiculous," he snorted. "Why don't they just take more psych tests?"

"That may be the goal after some preliminary investigations are completed," she answered.

"May be?" Reed parroted. "You don't know?"

"It's not my experiment or hypothesis," she told him. "Three colleagues have offered the idea and received a grant for study. One of the scientists was supposed to have been sent into space on a ship, but was unable to make it at the last minute. Rather than lose all their data, I offered to help them out since I was coming out here anyway. I expect they'll be calling every five minutes to make sure I'm doing it right." She rolled her eyes at the thought, but kept checking off her list.

"Do you know a lot about gardening?" Malcolm inquired, suddenly interested. His mother loved putting on a ridiculously large hat and tending a few plants in their small garden back home.

"I know enough to follow the directions," she sniffed impudently, waving a data pad.

"What other modifications do you require?" T'Pol asked, forestalling Malcolm's snippy response to her arrogant tone.

"In a perfect world, I'd like to devote a whole deck to the project, but I'd settle for two crew cabins, stripped of all human comforts," she listed off several other needs, including power conduits for hooking up the heat lamps, and water rations to cover the sprouting plants.

T'Pol went off to arrange the necessary items from various resources aboard ship, and Malcolm was left alone with his nemesis.

A noise made her look up at the ceiling sharply.

"That's just the warp engines," he told her.

She looked at him curiously.

"That noise is just the warp engines reaching the next speed," he repeated. "It's nothing to concern yourself about."

"Who was concerned?" she brushed off his efforts like a horse shaking off a biting fly.

"Were you in surgery?" he asked, stuttering like a schoolboy, once more absorbed in the details of the inventory.

Looking down at her garments, a pair of dark blue scrubs over a kerry green shirt, her lips twisted in a grin. "No, I just find these to be more comfortable than anything else." The grin stretched out into a smirk. "I like room to maneuver."

All the good feelings he'd been having about her vanished. "We prefer to be a bit more formal on this ship," he noted, ignoring the Starfleet Medical patch sewn on her shoulder. "You might want to stick to the uniform."

"I'll keep that in mind," she retorted with icy reserve.

* * *

At lunchtime she filled a tray and looked around. Commander Tucker and Commander T'Pol were sitting near the window and the male waved her over.

"Thank you, Commander," she sighed as she sat. "If you're sure I'm not intruding?" She looked at the Vulcan female who nodded demurely. Andie nodded back in satisfaction and dug into her bowl of tomato soup.

"I heard 'bout your little garden," Trip began, tucking into his own turkey sandwich with relish. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He looked peeved. "I'm not supposed to be doing any heavy lifting for a couple days, and I could use something to do."

Andie's eye went to the visible injury on his forehead. "How is your head, Commander?" she asked with concern.

"I'm sure his head is as hard as it ever was," T'Pol spoke quietly as she toyed with her vegetables.

Andie raised an eyebrow in amusement, but refused to embarrass the Vulcan by commenting on the joke.

"You know, we're all like family aboard _Enterprise_. You don't have to retain the formalities at lunch. Call me Trip," spoke the Southerner with all due charm.

The doctor's head swung around to meet his blue eyes. "Thank you, Trip. I'm aware that some people prefer a more structured environment. I didn't wish to offend."

"No problem," he answered offhandedly. He moved on to ship's business. "We've made some arrangements to shift some crew around. I thought your garden might grow well on G Deck."

Andie chewed her grilled cheese sandwich thoughtfully. "What's on G Deck?"

"Guest quarters mostly," Trip answered, through a mouthful of potato salad.

That quick smile flashed again. "I wouldn't expect a science vessel to be so big on sleepovers," she teased. "Not that I can't imagine you might get your fair share of offers." She looked right at Trip and winked as she said that.

Trip grinned in response. Neither noticed T'Pol's reluctance to join in the ribbing. "I don't have near enough sleepovers to suit me," he joked while avoiding the Vulcan's eyes. "Our guests are of a more official nature."

Andie blinked. "Guests, as in ambassadors and dignitaries? Foreign officers and aliens?"

"Yeah," the male answered, unsure where this might be leading.

"What if you pick up guests from a world that reveres plants? They might see the garden as a prison!" Andie seemed serious, but Trip was having difficulty telling the difference.

"Who would celebrate plants?" he smirked.

"The Delphiniums," she answered quickly.

Trip found he hadn't actually expected a reply. "The who?" he reiterated dumbly.

"Delphiniums," she pronounced it slowly. "They are a race of creatures whose main physiology resembles plants rather than mammals, right down to the chlorophyll under their skin, giving them the green hue. They need sunlight to survive, they fall dormant every winter, and they throw the biggest Harvest Ball you've ever seen in your life!" She noticed him looking at her skeptically, and her tone grew a bit more expansive, painting a colorful picture. "The Dryads and Naiads come out of the woodwork with vegetative offerings, and there's singing and dancing, and at the end, Lord Bacchus shows up with his grapes and wine and then the wildness begins!" Her face lit up as she spoke, as though she could picture these events in her mind. "It's so wild and unfettered with the wine and flowers, that days might pass before you remember where you were!"

"I don't imagine that's such a stretch for you," a dry British wit exuded.

She glared at the dark-haired Lieutenant, hovering at the edge of their table with his lunch tray. "I wouldn't imagine that you could understand such an _informal _existence," she sniffed. The gentle barb scored a direct hit.

Trip just chuckled. "I think you're making all that up!" he told her.

The light faded from her eyes, but not the smile from her face. "G Deck is a bad idea," she continued their earlier conversation without comment. "I prefer a location more centralized to the crew."

"What about F Deck?" Trip asked, wondering what he'd said to make her look so drawn.

"What's on F Deck?" she asked again.

"The Armory, the gym," Malcolm supplied her with the information as he accepted T'Pol's quiet offer to sit with them.

"Laundry facilities," Trip teased. He loved to tell Malcolm that nowhere else on board needing as much cleaning as Malcolm's ward.

Andie pondered as she idly sipped her tea. "The Armory might make too much noise, or produce too many fumes," she murmured, ignorant of Trip's delight in referring to Malcolm as smelly. "Does the laundry give off significant humidity?"

In the end they shifted some crew on E Deck and started to set up the greenhouse not far from Sickbay.

* * *

The afternoon was spent with several crewmembers unfastening bunk beds and removing computer terminals after packing and moving the four crewmembers to other locations. Dr. Brainerd fussed over it all, apologizing for the inconvenience and thanking the crewmen for their sacrifice. They were good-natured about it. A couple of crewmen were sent over from Engineering by Trip, who claimed he expected to be in conference with Captain Archer all afternoon. He did tell them to call him when it came to digging in the dirt though.

Commander Tucker rang the chimes politely at the entrance to the Captain's Ready Room at the appointed hour, despite his long friendship with the man in charge. It wasn't long before he heard a barked order to enter. He found Archer standing at the window, staring out at the passing stars, with a glass of iced tea in his hand. It was the position Archer preferred for thinking, and Trip was struck by the long stretch of time since he'd seen his friend in this position.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked.

Archer ducked his head and spun around to meet his friend's eyes. He offered Trip a beverage and a chair.

"What can you tell me about the new doctor?" They had both settled companionably with their drinks, and Trip was surprised at the intensity with which the captain asked the question.

"She saved my life," Trip was quick to point out. Malcolm had pointed out every defect in the damaged shuttle pod before scheduling it for repairs. The sight made him shudder, especially since he hadn't thought it was possible; shuttle pods were designed to take an extraordinary amount of stress. Trip was also horrified to discover the disengaged sensors and was concerned with Andie's acceptance of the sabotage.

"Yes," Archer waved the words away like pesky flies. "But what about her personally? You're the only person on board who's spent a significant amount of time with her in a social setting. You must have some insight that the rest of us lack."

Trip considered her words carefully. "We spent most of the trip telling stories and playing cards. She's got a sense of humor." He looked steadily at his friend. "Is there a problem, Cap'n?"

"Problem?" Archer repeated with a sigh, stifling the urge to rub his face with his hands. He pondered the question. "She's been here two days. She got my Chief Engineer so drunk they were nearly crushed by asteroids, she threatened to disembowel my personal Chef if he didn't make her coffee and he loves her for it, and my Navigational Officer nearly choked to death on a duty shift because of this!" He lay a soggy white paper stick down on the desk. It had remnants of sticky red candy stuck to the stem. "Apparently the doc gave him a lollipop."

Green eyes pierced Trip's blue ones. "Is she bold or is she reckless?"

Trip grinned at the assessment, despite himself. Archer made the petite female seem like the scourge of the high seas. The captain frowned fiercely at the jovial smile and sucked the humor right out of the moment.

Archer gave up and rubbed his hands over his face. He gulped a mouthful of tea and frowned at a data pad. "There's nothing in her personnel file, Trip. The Admiral won't let me send her home, and I'm afraid she might get us all killed."

"Between you and me, Cap'n," Trip told his commanding officer, "I think she'd sacrifice herself to keep the crew safe." He reminded Archer of his first sighting of the doctor, hanging on the side of a mountain, trying to rescue an egotistical young man and his lady-loves, before diving off a cliff into the river below.

"What did you talk about in the shuttle?" Jon asked, leaning back and refilling both glasses from the pitcher on the table.

"She asked about the ship and crew, and I told her a few things," Trip volunteered briefly. At Archer's questioning glance, the younger man reluctantly volunteered more information. "We talked about Phlox and the Warp Five Project and that first year out in space."

Jon's lip twitched at the corner. "I see you did a lot of talking, but did you ever let her get a word in edgewise?"

Trip shifted in his seat. "Sure, she said she traveled a lot, and that her dad was happy she'd become a doctor..." His voice trailed off. He grimaced. "I guess I did more talking than she did," he admitted. "Her jaw was always flapping, I guess I never noticed that she didn't say much."

Archer chuckled. "I always suspected your success with the ladies was a product of your imagination!" he teased gently. He hated to make Trip frown especially after nearly losing his friend and officer. Maybe he was just going to have to get to know her the old-fashioned way.

Released from his report to the captain, and feeling unsettled at his lack of information about someone he thought was his friend, Tucker tapped in a request to the computer to locate Doctor Brainerd. She was in the dining hall.

He made all due haste, wondering if she ever did anything besides eat.

* * *

It was quite a cozy scene, the two girls huddled together over an early dinner, whispering and giggling together. Trip's sister Lizzie used to giggle like at slumber parties in the family rec room when she was younger. That giggling used to make him crazy.

He slid into the empty chair at their table, without waiting for an invitation. Both women looked up at him and instantly ceased their chatter and laughter.

"Is there something I can do for you, Commander?" Hoshi inquired politely.

"I was just hoping to get to know the doc a little," he smiled, as innocently as possible.

Hoshi and Andie exchanged a significant glance. Andie murmured something under her breath in a foreign language and Hoshi grinned. "Sure, I'll see you then," she answered in English, before picking up her tray and leaving as diplomatically as possible.

"I see you're getting friendly with the crew," Trip noted.

"I'm working on it," Andie answered. She sipped at her cooling mug of coffee. She'd changed into a pair of emerald green scrubs over a magenta shirt. Looking at Trip's intense gaze, she smiled cheerfully. "Thanks for sending over Rostov and Bowman," she nodded appreciatively. "They were very helpful."

"Bowman was helpful?" Trip asked with a grin. "That's a record!"

"Don't be sour!" she playfully slapped him on the arm. "Henry's a lovely young man."

"Henry's got his head in the clouds," Trip sighed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she teased.

He was never sure exactly when he stopped interrogating her and slipped into easy conversation instead.

* * *

Mayweather paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "What's the big deal with Doctor Andie anyway? Everyone's always falling all over her for every little thing." He looked at his dining companions.

Lieutenant Reed sipped his tea and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "She's Doctor Brainerd's daughter. I imagine that's cause for some excitement."

"Who's Doctor Brainerd?" Mayweather asked.

"You're kidding, right?" Crewman Rostov looked at the young man with a raised eyebrow. "If Emory Erickson is the father of the transporter, and Henry Archer is the father of the Warp Five Engine, then Doctor Andre Brainerd is the Big Daddy of Interspecies Medicine."

"He was recruited to be the head of Starfleet's medical program," Malcolm added. "There is no human who knows as much about medicine as Doctor Brainerd. He's treated diplomats and royalty. He's quite good."

"Quite good? He's a legend!" Rostov burst out. "He's one of the founding members of the lunar mining colony! No other human has ever been _asked_ to serve aboard a Vulcan starship!"

"Oh, I had no idea," said Travis in a way that clearly indicated that he'd had no idea. "I'd heard the rumors, I mean," he hastened to add, "I just never knew he had a family."

Malcolm lay down his fork. "I don't recall ever hearing about a family before," he mused. He surreptitiously watched his friend chuckling gently with the young woman in question. He wondered what her childhood must have been like, growing up without a father.

They tidied up their table and walked out into the corridor, on their way back to their shift. "I wonder what it must have been like growing up with such a famous father," Mayweather wondered.

"Henry Archer is famous too," Rostov pointed out. "You might ask Captain Archer."

"She probably had all the privileges life had to offer," Reed smirked. "She's probably never done a decent day's work in her life, and I'm sure that society is quite happy to let her do whatever she wants, in the hopes that her father might show up." He continued to muse, unaware of the uncomfortable looks between the younger men. "I imagine that nobody's ever held her accountable before."

"A life of service and duty will do her a world of good," he summarized, unmindful of the polite coughing of his companions.

Mayweather and Rostov had caught the gaze of the woman looking around a corner up ahead, but Reed was intent on his course back to the Armory. She disappeared without a word.

* * *

It was rather late in the evening when Jonathan finally pushed aside all the paperwork and made his way down to the gym. At this hour there was hardly anyone around and he did his best thinking while working out.

He found he wasn't alone. Andie jogged on a treadmill, lifting her chin to acknowledge his presence without missing a step. Thin wires descended from her ears to a small device clipped to her waistband. He could hear the thumping rhythms of music from the doorway where he stood and wondered if she suffered permanent hearing loss.

Dropping his towel and water bottle, he stepped up onto the machine next to hers and began a slow pace to warm up. Soon he fell into step beside her. It turned out that she kept up a rapid pace, presumably to the beat of whatever music played in her selection, and he had to work harder than he was accustomed to keep up.

"What are you listening to?" he asked, a little loudly, to be heard over the pounding of his heart and the pounding of the drums.

"_Bloodthirsty Pirates_," she panted evenly.

He thought he must have misheard.

"Punk metal band," she told him. "Heard 'em at a music festival, picked up a recording. Good beat for running." Her comments were short to conserve her breath.

"I like music," he answered equally as short. "You should play it... over the audio... in here."

Her dubious expression was swept away by her laughter that caused her feet to stumble. Obligingly she stepped off the treadmill and transferred her music data to the player and turned up the volume to a respectable level. She hopped back on and resumed her run.

The noise was so loud that Archer was sure he'd have ringing in his ears for the rest of his life. Sung, if you could call it that, in an alien tongue, the vocalist could barely be heard over the instruments and shouted and screeched lyrics he didn't understand anyway.

Glancing at Andie, he noticed the smirk hovering on her lips. There was a human expression: If it's too loud, then you're too old. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to smile and nod in approval. Andie recognized his subterfuge for the lie it was, and laughed so hard she nearly fell off her treadmill.

Stepping off she hit the button to return the room to its former silence. "I didn't expect to be entertaining company," she giggled breathlessly. "Next time I'll choose more socially acceptable tunes!"

He shrugged as if it didn't matter to him, but he was grateful that the noise had stopped. Moving to the exercise mat, she bent into a series of positions that looked painful and complicated to finish her workout. He'd seen T'Pol perform similar exercises and he wondered if they were at all related. When he finished his jog, he moved to the weights, but when she finished her stretches, she picked up her things and waved at him before leaving, still smirking.


	7. Chapter 7

**The New Doctor**

**By Lieuten Keen**

Disclaimers: See chapter one.

* * *

Andrea Brainerd made her first foray onto the bridge at the request of her captain four days later.

"We're coming up on the research station, and I thought you might like to watch us take the ship into orbit," Archer met her with a grin. He didn't feel nearly as cheerful as he sounded, but he was immensely relieved to be getting rid of those cats. They seemed to be everywhere. Chef had threatened to quit if he found them in the galley again, and one had been chewing on wires in Engineering, and Crewman Cooper had tripped over one as he was moving equipment out of the quarters that Andie had commandeered for her garden.

Her expression was polite, although he thought there was another emotion there that he couldn't place. She stood at Malcolm's shoulder while Archer called out directives to Ensign Mayweather. Having taken to wearing a satchel filled with medical supplies over her shoulder whenever she left Sickbay, the orange cat had taken to riding on it, like a king surveying his troops. The cat made Malcolm nervous.

"T'Pol is the science officer," he whispered over his shoulder. "I'm sure you'd find her work more interesting."

Raising an eyebrow, Andie made sure to smirk knowingly at the Armory Officer before crossing the room to stand at T'Pol's shoulder.

Smoothly Travis brought the ship into geo-synchronous orbit and they traveled around the planet just above the compound created on the ground for the study of indigenous life. If the studies established a water supply and appropriate atmospheric conditions, Starfleet had ideas about turning this planet just outside their solar system into a Starbase.

"Captain," Hoshi called out. "I'm not receiving an answer to our hails."

"Life signs?" he asked shortly. He hated to make Doctor Brainerd think his staff wasn't thorough at their job. He intended to make her understand that everyone aboard was committed to this ship and their job.

"There are several life signs," T'Pol answered. "Only a few seem to be human."

"Seem to be?" Andie questioned quietly. She peered at the data over the Vulcan's shoulder.

"There seems to be an electrical charge in the atmosphere that is preventing a clear reading," T'Pol announced. She caught the captain's eye. "Winds are increasing on the outer rim of the continent. Temperature is dropping."

"There's a storm approaching?" Archer guessed. He looked at Andie. "You've worked with the lead scientist before. Can you think of a reason why they aren't answering?"

Andie thought of Doctor Godfreid. He'd been her advisor in med school and she'd worked as an assistant in his lab back on Earth. She'd been very fond of him. "Perhaps he's in the middle of a delicate experiment?" she offered.

Leon hung over his mistress's shoulders and peered at the screens as though he understood English. He had stopped chewing on Andie's hair and he hissed softly.

As Archer prepared his crew to take a tour of the Proteus Research Facility, Andie had grave misgivings about their arrival. How do you explain to a captain that hates you that you don't think you should do your job because your cat is nervous? She wondered. Jerking out of her reverie, she noticed the captain looking at her.

"Let's go make sure they're alive," Archer sighed. It relived his mind that Andie was so awed by their procedure that she was unable to speak. She may understand the bond between ship and crew before long, and become a member he could be proud of.

* * *

"I'm not going to wear a gun," Andie told Malcolm very clearly.

Malcolm gritted his teeth and tried not to strangle her. "Of course you are," he told her. They stood in Sickbay, where she had been packing nutritional supplements and warm blankets for the kitties she'd promised to deliver. "Everyone who leaves the ship must be prepared to defend themselves."

Andie raised a disbelieving eyebrow at Reed. "Defend ourselves from scientists? Really?" she questioned sarcastically. "They might try to kill us by positing theories endlessly on the nature of free will versus fate, but I hardly think they'll be lethal!" She pretended to ponder the matter. "Of course, you might wish you were dead, but that's not the same thing."

He refused to laugh at her joke and continued to hold out the phase pistol that she refused to take possession of, waiting for her to come to her senses.

Archer strode into the room. "Is there a problem?" he asked, noting the two in a stand-off.

"He thinks I'm going to carry a phase pistol," Andie jumped right in, to Malcolm's consternation.

"If you're going to join us, you should be prepared to defend yourself." Archer's answer brought a smirk of triumph to Malcolm's face. It was nearly a textbook answer, that is, if text books insisted that one carry a weapon everywhere one goes.

"I don't like guns, Captain," she growled stubbornly.

"Then you're not going," he replied evenly.

"Then I'm not going," she agreed and stepped away from the weapon.

Archer sighed. It wasn't that simple. "Your presence has been personally requested by Doctor Godfreid. He expects you to 'come calling' and you can't just refuse to go." She made him grind his teeth so hard that his head was beginning to hurt.

Andie had been busy shuffling supplies around, but she froze at his words. Malcolm became intrigued. Her eyes darkened even as they hardened into diamond fine points, but her expression drifted away as though she no longer heard Archer's voice.

"What did you say?" she asked faintly.

Archer didn't seem to notice anything wrong. "I said, he requested that you come calling, and..."

"Does that mean something to you, Doctor?" Malcolm interrupted.

She blinked slowly once. She blinked a second time and her vision cleared. She smiled at Archer, but it didn't reach all the way to her eyes. "It's an unusual phrase, isn't it?" she commented. "It's very old-fashioned, calling on someone, not something you hear often anymore."

She turned her head to the captain. "I'll be ready in half an hour." She moved toward the door. "But I'm still not going to wear that gun."

* * *

As the ship circled the planet, great white clouds obscured their vision of the surface. They landed just outside the main facility, which reminded Archer of the Taj Mahal with its squared corners and rounded dome roof. The landing pad was specially heated to keep the pod's runners from freezing to the ground. Malcolm had watched Andie surreptitiously as they traveled through the atmosphere, but she seemed closed off. She refused to wear the pistol. Captain Archer had threatened to throw her in the brig, and refuse her coffee if she didn't agree to wear it; however, she threatened to shoot him if he forced her. She won, to the captain's chagrin.

Andie forced her eyes open and unclenched her fingers from the armrest of the shuttle seat, and fussed over her kitties in their crates. With a companionable grin, Malcolm reached to open the hatch to the bitterly cold air and drab day. Leon, the orange cat, hissed and growled energetically at something unseen. Andie leaned forward and stopped Malcolm from releasing the catch. He eyed her suspiciously.

Something thumped on the outside of the door. The sound seemed to make Doctor Brainerd even more nervous than she already was. Peering out the windows, Archer reported that there was nothing there.

Stepping outside onto the snow covered landscape, Andie turned in a full circle trying to figure out what was causing the goose bumps to rise on her flesh. She thought she could see shadowy figures in the distance, but they didn't seem to take an interest in the new arrivals.

"Would you mind if we leave them here for the time being?" she asked from her position in the door of the shuttle. "I'd hate to leave them someplace before I've had a chance to look for open doors or other hazards." She gestured at the cats.

"You're only prolonging the moment when you have to give them away," Archer said.

"I won't bring those defenseless creatures into an environment that I haven't checked out with my own eyes!" she snapped. "For all I know, the scientists walk around on broken glass all day. What kind of an irresponsible moron would I be if I just assumed they would be fine?"

Archer didn't say anything, although he frowned at her burst of temper. He knew firsthand what kind of an irresponsible pet owner behaved that way. He agreed with a harrumph and stomped through the snow to take the lead as they walked up to the main doors.

Andie was dressed in a thick warm coat and wore the Starfleet baseball cap pulled down over her eyes. She made no attempt to leap to the front of the line, but allowed anyone else to stand in front of her. Malcolm, who wasn't particularly pleased at her presence, found her behavior especially strange. She was tense and rather jumpy, more so than usual after her fifteen cups of rocket-fueled coffee.

They pressed the buzzer and after a while the heavy doors swung open to admit them into a spacious entry. The far wall was nothing but a dazzling window, looking out over sparkling snow. Two long white couches faced each other over a low glass table, and despite the high ceilings and freezing temperatures outside the room maintained a warmth that was welcome after the brutal chill of the outdoors.

An older man wearing a white lab coat appeared as the door swung wide with a younger man at his side. Neither man looked pleased to be receiving visitors. They were less pleased when they recognized at least one member of the party at their door.

"Brain-dead?" the young man stepped forward to speak sharply.

"Derelict!" Andie hissed, squaring off against the second man.

He shot a dirty look at her as she acknowledged the other figure.

Andie focused on the old man in front of her. "Hello, Dick," she perked with a sardonic twinkle in her eye. "Love what you've done with the place," Andie purred, indicating the white room. She hadn't actually been here before, but then she was only making idle small talk.

The scientist was not happy to see her either. "Romie, you know good and well my name is Doctor Richards," he admonished her with a frown.

She tried not to snicker. With his face all scrunched up like that he looked like a petulant bulldog. "Well, then, Richards," she pronounced the name distinctively, "I go by Doctor Brainerd now," she corrected him, emphasizing her title.

They eyed each other warily.

Archer coughed politely.

Andie made proper introductions. "Doctor Richards, Doctor Darryl, may I present Starfleet's first active captain of the Warp Five Project, Captain Jonathan Archer."

Richards flung his arms wide open hoping to diffuse the tension her unexpected arrival had wrought . "Captain Archer!" He shook Jon's hand. "I'm Dr. Richards. It's so good to meet you. I've heard about your work in the Expanse! I'd be happy to hear more." He bore a long scratch on one cheek.

Jon squirmed at the attention but shook hands politely.

"I see that was quite a list of people you slept with to get to the top," Darryl interjected snidely. He had a bruise on his temple.

Andie remained undeterred and gave back as good as she got. "It's a long and distinguished list," she replied icily. "I see that the list of people impressed with your abilities is both short and to the point." She even added the unnecessary sweep of her eyes down his form and back. "Do you require medical attention from a real doctor for that?" she gestured to the injuries.

Archer looked from one to the other with a curious expression. They didn't bother to elucidate.

"Children!" Jon interrupted as a warning.

"May I present the First Officer, Commander T'Pol, and the Chief Armory Officer, Lieutenant Reed? Doctor Godfreid requested some specific supplies. They're waiting on the ship for you to take possession. They were much too fragile to be dropped off by transporter." Andie's voice was polite, but her words caused many eyes to turn in her direction, some by her own people.

The scientists' eyes gleamed even as they relaxed visibly. "We'll take you to our Observation Tower. It's where we've found them to be most useful," Darryl leaped forward. "What caliber have you brought?" This was directed to Reed.

"Caliber?" Reed repeated. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Doctor Brainerd broke in with saccharine confusion. "There must be a miscommunication. We've brought felines...for your rodent problem." Her gray eyes widened in mock innocence.

"Cats?" Darryl repeated idiotically. Doctor Richards could barely do more than ring his hands.

"Perhaps I should clear this up with Doctor Godfreid?" Andie pouted worriedly. "Where can I find him?"

"Out," Darryl grumbled. He knew he'd just been had and he'd walked into it.

"Out where? Outside?" Andie goggled and burst out laughing. "You must be joking?"

"Research is what he...'does'...now," Darryl puffed him self upright, the double entendre hanging in the air like a nasty smell.

Sighing, Andie stated, "He's an old man. He can't... 'do'...research...like he used to." She mimicked his distasteful joke with a cynical twist of her lips. "Would it be an imposition to ask for a tour of the facilities while we wait for his return?"

"Yes," Darryl hissed, and his answer was promptly waved away by Doctor Richards.

"No, it wouldn't be an imposition."

Archer stepped in, tired of his head swinging back and forth as though he was at a tennis match where he didn't know the score. "This is one of the first planets selected for the location of a possible Starbase. I'd like to join that tour if you don't mind?" The irony of his request was completely overlooked by Doctor Brainerd.

"So would I," Reed hastened to add. Their entire discourse had been strange to say the least and both Jon and Malcolm wanted answers. Why would scientists be expecting weapons?

"Perhaps we'll schedule one tomorrow morning," Richards broke in. "We're studying the migration patterns of the native fauna..."

"I love fauna!" Andie enthused, clapping her hands excitedly. "Let's observe it!"

It was clear that the Starfleet officers weren't going anywhere without studying the research team. Richards and Darryl sighed.

Archer arranged for T'Pol to take the shuttle back to _Enterprise_ and use the main sensors to get a better look at the planet, under the guise of fetching the kitties. He sighed when she was gone. They were here less than ten minutes and already everything was wrong. It seemed they would have to wait out the storm down here.

* * *

"Would you care to tell me what that was all about?" Jon asked as he huddled with Malcolm and Andie near the door, watching T'Pol leave, and Richards and Darryl huddle together on the other side of the room. Malcolm glared at her to bring the appropriate level of seriousness to the conversation.

"Doctor Godfreid and I were good friends," she told them. "He told me if I ever need anything, I should 'call on him.' I had no idea what he was into when he asked me to come here, but I find it strange that he isn't here to greet me."

"That phrase had meaning and you chose to keep it a secret?" Malcolm hissed.

"It wasn't a hard and fast rule; maybe he just wanted to see me again," she hissed back.

"To continue your romantic relationship?" Malcolm sneered. "Darryl seems to think you were quite close!"

"Derelict is an idiot! We never had a romantic relationship!" Andie objected. "We were friends!"

"Good friends," Malcolm clarified with a leer.

"Lieutenant!" Archer's quiet bark brought both the combatants to attention.

"Godfreid's in trouble, or else he'd be here," she told him wearily, begging the captain with her eyes to believe her. "He would never leave Dick or Derelict in charge. He certainly wouldn't go outside in this weather!"

"Derelict?" Archer knew he was going to hate himself for asking.

Shrugging, Andie mumbled, "We knew each other in medical school. We didn't like each other then, either."

"Richards called you 'Romie,'" Malcolm questioned, expecting clarification. He didn't get it.

Andie shrugged again. "It's a nickname."

Static crunched through the room on Archer's communicator. "Captain..!" It was T'Pol's voice, carrying over the howls and shrieks of her traveling companions. There was another deeper growl that carried over the top of all three. It could be heard, not just through the handheld device, but also outside the walls of the compound.

Archer picked up his com. "Commander? T'Pol!" The Starfleet crew raced to the giant door behind them. Throwing it open, they saw a sight that took their breath away.

Through the growing turbulent weather, an enormous creature reminiscent of a polar bear pawed at the shuttle pod as the engines screamed. Its rounded nose snuffled against the side of the vessel, and T'Pol could be seen through the main window desperately trying to attain a height that would take her away from the rabid creature, who had taken hold with massive talons.

"Damn!" Andie breathed.

Malcolm pulled his phase pistol, almost as a reflex action, and raced outside to take aim at the attacking carnivore. Richards and Darryl followed with a shriek, but they were too late. Malcolm had fired at the heated landing pad. The unsheltered machine that generated the heat ignited with the phaser fire, and the entire platform exploded.

"The landing platform carries a heat source that keeps the machines from freezing! How could you shoot at a heat panel?" Darryl shouted furiously. Even as Malcolm protested his unawareness of that fact, the heat from the fire drove them all back several steps.

The shuttle pod lifted into the air, not entirely of its own accord, and T'Pol managed to kick the engines to life. With both engines smoking, she dragged the tiny contraption into the sky. She was lost to the viewers on the ground as she penetrated the heavy cloud formation, despite the rising winds.

Smoke billowed out from the wreckage. The massive creature was forced backward, where it fell on its back and squealed. Rolling over, Andie could see burn marks on its feet or paws, and blisters appearing on its snout. Before Malcolm could fire again, she stepped forward and forced his arm down.

"Let it go! It's wounded!" she shouted. Even as she spoke, it struggled to its feet and ran with painful steps into the trees surrounding the station. Andie saw a smaller shape just inside the tree line before it disappeared as well.

"That thing attacked the Commander! It's a danger to us all!" Malcolm protested.

"It's only a baby. It's just looking for a warm place to nest," Doctor Richards broke in. He stepped up behind them. "I think the explosion might have scared him away, but we might want to take cover inside until we're sure."

"That's the child-size?" Malcolm squeaked. "It's nearly as big as the shuttle pod!"

Archer encouraged his crew inside the mostly glass walls of the research station. He continued to shout into his communicator. The responses he sought were mixed up with reactions from his orbiting ship.

"What the hell happened down there?" A familiar Southern drawl carried over the communicator.

"The landing platform exploded as T'Pol was lifting off," Archer explained shortly. "Is she all right?"

"We haven't heard..." They heard his voice barking commands to the other bridge officers. "Scanning for the shuttle pod, Captain," he replied. There were more indistinct murmurs. "We've got her, sir. The shuttle pod is continuing to rise through the atmosphere. She may have lost communications. We'll let you know." There was a pause. "Is everything all right down there?"

Archer glared at Richards and Darryl. "I'll let you know," he echoed.

"We're going to need an explanation," he told the scientists in a tone that brooked no refusal.

* * *

They were seated on the sofas in the main room, and Darryl had brought tea for everyone. Andie sipped it, glancing outside at the ever more inclement weather as Richards told the story.

"It started out simply. We were looking at wildlife. At base camp there was a small animal, the size of a spaniel. It looks like an aardvark. They fed it some food, and it came around again, like a dog." Telling the huge secret seemed to make him feel better, although he kept glancing over his shoulder at the diminishing light outside.

"It's not a dog, Dick," Andie commented dryly. Every time she spoke his name, the nasty sneer was obvious. The scratch on Dr. Richards's face was beginning to indicate a darker purpose.

"I know! But we couldn't send a recommendation to Starfleet about this planet if we didn't have detailed scans of the native animal life! We made friends with it and it kept coming around. In a recent storm, we heard it calling and invited it inside for the night."

Andie frowned.

"We tried to make it comfortable, but this larger creature came out of nowhere and started attacking the station and killed some of the scientists."

"The mother," Archer correctly guessed.

Dick looked guilty. "We feared for our lives, so some of them took phase pistols out the next day, and tried to take care of the problem. They stunned the mother! They brought her back here. She was kept in a cage downstairs and they..." he hesitated.

"They experimented with her," Andie finished darkly. Dick protested. She continued, rage filling her voice. "They poked her," he nodded, "and prodded her, and filled her up with drugs. They found the rest of her litter to be used as guinea pigs." The frightened man continued to object.

"How do you know all this?" Archer asked her.

"It's Dick's usual mode of operation, Captain," her voice was tight with fury. "Abuse every privilege he's ever had and assault every creature he's come across." Dick growled at her assessment of his expertise.

Archer had the luxury of reprimanding her softly. "Andie," he warned. She clamped her lips shut and sulked.

Darryl shuddered. "She got away yesterday. The others have been hunting her because she was really mad. The team that was tracking her haven't shown up or called in, Godfreid headed out to check on their progress. We've suffered some mild attacks here at the station recently by more than one creature."

"Starfleet research doesn't allow for experimentation on animals," Archer started.

"Save your speeches, Captain!" his new physician snapped. "There are no treaties out here. There's only a bunch of walking dead men." She turned to Darryl. "Show me where they went."

"You can't seriously be thinking of following them on foot!" Archer growled.

Dick pulled Darryl aside. "If they leave now, they'll be caught in the storms that rise up at night."

Darryl wanted to slap the old man. "If they know we're experimenting on local animals, our research days are done!" he hissed. "I'm a young man! I've got a lot of years left! Not like you, you've squandered your experience. They may not survive the gale winds and icy snows, but our careers won't be over!"

Dick gulped. He thought this was a bad idea, but he wasn't about to be the one to say so. Besides it was entirely possible that Dr. Brainerd was just mean enough to take on a rampaging beast.

* * *

Archer and Reed started making preparations to follow the hunters. They wandered around the facility, and noticed that several of the snow-cats, the machines specifically designed for work in the frozen tundra, were missing from their mooring at the back. The light was fading fast however, and even Archer wasn't about to attempt a rescue on a strange world in the dark.

He tried using his communicator to talk to Trip again, but there was only static on his end. Shuttle Pod One was still undergoing repairs from the magnetic eddy they encountered a few days ago, so there would be no rescue that way. If the communicators couldn't reach the ship, it was pretty certain that transporters would be of no use either. Outside, snow had begun to fall heavily on the ground.

"I guess we're stuck here for the night," Archer grunted.

"We should investigate the outer wings of the station to be sure that the shelter is secure," Malcolm noted.

"Come on, Dick," Andie spoke in a rather nasty tone. "Let's check out this wing. You can tell me a story while we work." She grabbed the older man's arm and dragged him toward the east wing, ignoring his weak protests. "Like how you got Godfreid outside of his own volition."

Jon and Malcolm exchanged a significant raise of eyebrows that spoke volumes about their crewmate. The three remaining men took off down the west wing to look for open doors and weak spots, after making plans to check in every fifteen minutes.


	8. Chapter 8

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 8

* * *

Doctors Richard and Andie made it back to the main room just as the others were wondering if a search party should be made to find them. They arrived at last, bringing a pile of blankets and pillows to make everyone more comfortable as they gathered around the massive fireplace. Malcolm wished he'd thought of that. Andie shook a light dusting of snow off her shoulders and explained that some rooms on that side had suffered some minor structural damage, but with the heavy pressure doors sealed between the dormitories and the central observation rooms, they should feel safe for the night.

Bedding down on a thin blanket before a roaring fire complete with a clear view of the landscape outside through the massive picture window, reminded Jon of camping with his dad. "You know what would hit the spot right now?" he spoke out loud in the silent room. "Marshmallows and hot cocoa," he finished with a nostalgic smile, blatantly ignoring the howling wind, the freezing temperatures, and the idea that something out there might want to eat them.

"I could go for a bite to eat," Darryl agreed. Richards nodded hesitantly.

"Food would be good now," Malcolm chimed in. "We should keep up our strength."

All four men looked at Andie as she fussed over the fold of her blankets with regards to the draft on the floor. She stopped moving and met their gazes with a glare. "Why are you looking at me?" she growled. "I may have breasts, but I wasn't born with an apron on!"

They continued to look at her expectantly.

"Jackasses," she muttered as she flounced toward the kitchen.

Around the fire, the men exchanged secret smiles.

Nearly an hour went by without the doctor's reappearance. Archer lingered near the window and peered uselessly into the growing storm watching for movement. Richards sighed repeatedly and cleaned his fingernails obsessively with a small penknife. Darryl wandered restlessly around the room until his movements nearly drove the Brit mad. The younger scientists' behavior was bordering on creepy. Reed started to worry as he checked his chronometer. "I think I'll check on dinner," he excused himself and rose.

Inside the large kitchen, designed to prepare meals for two dozen scientists, he found a generator had been activated in one corner, and a small lamp was lit. On the main table, he found a pile of silver ration packs and water filled a pot on the stove, although heat had never been applied underneath it. The doctor was nowhere to be found.

Pulling his phase pistol, Malcolm crept through the eerily empty room, his senses heightened with the presumption of danger. The room was a little chilly, although that might be from the sudden move away from the fire in the main room. He began to investigate the source of the chill, picturing creatures chewing on the walls from outside. He swore under his breath that he would never watch a movie chosen by Commander Tucker ever again. The young man's obsession with horror movies was giving him ideas.

At the end of the long counter, he found a narrow sliding door that was hadn't been pulled fully shut. A narrow crack remained between the well-lit kitchen and the darkness behind. Slipping through he discovered a dry pantry, filled with canisters of flour, sugar and canned goods that didn't require temperature regulation. This room was much colder than the kitchen and Malcolm shivered. He found the source of the chill, a supply door that opened to the outside world that had been mangled so that it wouldn't close properly. It was also propped open with a jacket from the hook hung next to the door for quick access when supply ships arrived.

Outside in the rising wind and driving snow he saw a figure huddled near the ground. Sighing in exasperation, Malcolm put away his weapon and pulled a long coat from the hook next to the door and tramped out into the snow. "Are we dining al fresco, then?" he asked out loud when he reached the crouching figure.

"I needed some fresh air." She raised her hand to her mouth then dropped it back near the ground. "Would you mind ducking down a bit, Lieutenant? I'm trying to stay off their radar." Her chin jutted into the snowy world outside the scarf wound around her neck and although Malcolm peered intently, he couldn't see anything. He knelt beside Brainerd anyway, pulling the deep hood over his head and holding it with one hand in the blowing wind.

She lifted her hand to her mouth again, and inhaled deeply before lowering her arm. Reed caught the scent of something spicy and sooty. "I believe smoking has been banned by Starfleet as a hazard to your health, Doctor." Malcolm emphasized her title.

Andie shrugged and spoke dryly. "My physician thinks one every now and then won't kill me any faster." She absently thumped the narrow cigar in her hand to knock off the ash.

"I'll take that under advisement with Phlox and Archer at a later time," he noted. "What are you looking at?" He pulled his hands into fists and tucked them in the sleeves of the coat to keep them warm.

She pointed carefully to the thin line of scrubby trees in the distance. "There's a shadow in the trees that moves."

"Could be the wind," he suggested, even as he pulled his hands free to finger the phase pistol he'd only recently holstered.

Andie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "If it was just the wind, then there would probably be shadows and movement in that copse of trees too," she gestured behind him to another scraggly group.

A shiver ran down his spine that wasn't entirely due to the snow and wind. "What do you suppose it is?" he asked, taking the narrow cigar from her fingers and puffing deeply. The heat from the lit end teased his cold digits with hollow warmth.

He handed it back to her and smiled at her skeptical expression. "I suppose I might need a note from your doctor," he teased. The rush of nicotine made his head swim and his throat ache.

She sighed, unamused and nodded at the shadowy trees. "It's probably just the migration that the scientists claim to be studying." She sucked on the stogie and handed it back to Malcolm, who took another chance with the smoke and tobacco.

"Where'd you find these?" he asked, waving the narrow cylinder.

"Doctor Godfreid's quarters," she answered briefly, peering out into the darkness again.

"You were snooping?" he was shocked, handing the cigar back to her, coughing with the cold and ash.

"I am an explorer. I don't snoop. I explore," she expressed succinctly.

"What else did you find to pillage and conquer?" he wondered. It occurred to him that he was flirting with the doctor he hated. He blamed it on the cold and the narcotic.

"The usual," Andie languidly puffed the cigar. "Doctor Godfreid loved his comforts. He liked a good cigar, a good drink, and a good book in front of a roaring fire. Why would he leave all that behind to go out there?" She waved one hand at the snow covered desolation. "It doesn't make sense." His absence obviously concerned her deeply.

"Perhaps he went to do the research he's been placed here to do," Malcolm pointed out reasonably.

"Not bloody likely, Sparky," she snorted, handing over the dwindling cigar. "He'd send Dick and Derelict before he'd leave his Cubans! Hell! He'd send his own mother first!"

"You don't like Doctor Richards?" Malcolm prompted, blowing on his fingers to warm them up a bit.

"I don't like Dick," she confirmed darkly. She didn't seem about to elaborate and Malcolm nudged her to continue.

She sighed. "Godfreid liked pretty girls too. He was rumored to have seduced the wrong girl and his punishment was to be sent out here. Dick testified against him as his research partner, and I testified on behalf of Godfreid. Dick's never liked that I tried to derail his plan."

"Richards tried to frame Godfreid?" Malcolm questioned. He wondered who the 'wrong girl' had been.

"He didn't have to try to frame him," she went on reluctantly. "Godfreid did a good job of hanging himself. Richards was the one to call attention to the matter. If Godfreid had been removed from Starfleet, Richards could take over his lab duties. It's a shame the review board thought that Richards and Godfreid belonged together." She didn't sound sorry at this last bit; she sounded slightly gleeful. Malcolm wondered if she had been the one to sell out Richards when her rescue of Godfreid didn't work.

"What were they working on?" he wondered out loud.

"Their research is in neural chemicals that affect behavior," she told him simply. "They think they can make people act a certain way by pharmaceutical treatments."

"Isn't this cozy?" a voice sneered above them. They looked up to find Darryl hovering over their heads, and they immediately stood up.

"Are you considering breaking new ground?" Darryl looked viciously from one to the other, resting his eyes on the lieutenant. "Of course, Doctor Brain-dead is best known for going where everyone has gone before." He leered at the woman nastily.

Reed stepped forward as though he was about to defend the female, but she laid a firm hand on his forearm. "We're just heading in, Darryl." She urged Malcolm forward and followed behind him. She had no idea how long Darryl had been there listening, but it was obvious that he was very upset. An angry Darryl was unpredictable. And he looked like crap. Her hackles rose.

They reached the pantry door. "After you," she waved Darryl ahead of her.

"No," he countered. "After you. I insist." His words sounded like a growl and caused the hairs on the back of Malcolm's neck to stand up. There was something unusual about Darryl's stance right now; from the clammy skin on his face to the unnatural leer that hung over his face in a rictus, to the way his eyes darted from side to side.

He exuded fear like a stench. Yet despite his terror, there was a calm that lay deep underneath his crazy eyes. This man, Malcolm thought, had something up his sleeve. As casually as he could, he rested his fingers against the phase pistol resting on his hip

Stepping through the outer pantry door first, his mind raced, trying to determine how much of his discomfiture had to do with the shadow watching he and Andie had just done. He reached the door to the kitchen and he maneuvered through it, trying to be aware of any treachery that might lurk behind it. He believed that Dick and Derelict may have planned something unpleasant together. He wanted to be prepared for an ambush.

When the sudden movement came, it came from someplace unexpected.

Andie stepped through the outer pantry door, ahead of Darryl. As the sweaty young man followed her lead, stepping out of the whirling white frenzy to the cool dim interior, his head lowered to protect his face from the blowing snow, her elbow flew up suddenly to connect soundly with his nose behind her. The sickening crunch was followed closely by a howl of pain. Malcolm whirled.

Ducking her head, she used her shoulder to ramrod Darryl back outside into the snow. Darryl and Andie wrestled as Malcolm hovered in the open door, waiting for a chance to stun the male with the pistol. There was another thump and a squeal, followed by a howl from far away that raised Malcolm's hackles.

The figure on the bottom of the snowy pair, kicked with both legs, sending the figure on top flying back into the deepening snow. That figure rose from the deep snow and howled in mockery of the animal far away while the bottom figure disappeared at a run.

Malcolm hesitated. All that rolling had covered both parties with white until they were nearly indistinguishable. Unfortunately it was Darryl who turned, grinning madly as he raised his hands to attack Malcolm, who didn't hesitate to fire this time. He missed. The maniacal scientist raced into the night, goggling and howling like a wolf, answering cries to the creature that slavered far away in the night.

"Doctor Brainerd?" Malcolm called. There was no answer.

Captain Archer and Doctor Richards tumbled through the kitchen door. "What happened? I heard phaser fire!" Archer barked.

"Darryl went crazy and attacked Doctor Brainerd! They both went out in this!" Malcolm gestured to the blizzard.

"Archer to _Enterprise_!" The captain whipped out his communicator and demanded a response.

"I think I see her!" Malcolm stumbled out into the white world, calling for the doctor as he slogged heavily through the thick snow.

Doctor Richards placed an arm over the pantry door to prevent Archer from following. "It's not safe out there. After all the noise they made, there's no telling what may have been attracted to it. We'd do better to stay and raise your ship," he motioned to the device in Jon's hand, before looking up hopefully. "Your ship can take thermal scans? Because you can't tell your head from your hind end out there."

The winds and snows danced together in mini-cyclones of sound and movement.

"My officers are out there in that, being chased by your crazy doctor!" Archer shouted.

"At the moment, Captain," Richards looked solidly at the younger man. "I have more faith that Doctor Brainerd will survive this, than we will. She can be very determined."

It was the howling cry outside, closer than the last time they heard it, that made up his mind.

Archer glared at the blizzard outside as though he could make the weather obey his wishes like he makes his crew obey. Reluctantly he let Richards close the outer door, securing them inside sturdy walls filled with heat and food while his officers fended for themselves in the midst of this nightmare. The decision didn't rest well with him.

* * *

Malcolm stumbled through the snow, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out for his companion. The wind screamed as it stole his words away. He thought he saw a shadow on his left but when he turned around, all he could see was the unending whiteness. He'd already given up trying to find his way back to the research station. He'd jumped ahead without thinking and now he was lost, and probably going to die, if not from the cold, then by whatever lurked out here.

The thick snow on the ground mixed with the thick snow falling from the sky, giving the impression that Malcolm was being crushed between the two and suffocated in cotton fibers. He called out again.

This time the breath was knocked from his chest as a figure hurtled against him, knocking him to the ground. Twisting his body, he flipped the attacker over until he straddled the offender who hissed in a decidedly feminine way.

"Will you shut your damn mouth? You'll draw the attention of everything that's wandering around out here!"

"Doctor...Brainerd?" Malcolm panted the question, hardly daring to hope that he'd found her.

"Two things," Andie growled from underneath him. "One, shut up or I'll shut you up! Two, get your hands off me!"

Malcolm looked down to realize that he still straddled her figure and his weight was braced on the hand that rested directly on her...torso. She glared pointedly at the hand, and Malcolm snatched it away as though he'd been burned.

"Sorry," he apologized. Under other circumstances, he would have proffered more pleas of forgiveness but garbed as she was, in a coat that hung around her like a tent, he could barely make out any of her body lines, let alone the contours of her womanly assets.

She sat up slowly as he eased off her, craning her neck around with her free hand held up for silence. Grabbing Reed's collar, she shuffled on her knees to the overhang of an evergreen, guiding him behind her. There was a hollow around the trunk, loosely protected by the banks of wind driven snow, creating a small shelter in a cold world.

He ducked under the overhanging branches and arranged his head under the hanging needles. Cupping his hands, he blew on them to bring feeling back. Andie cursed proficiently. She pulled off her mittens and pushed them onto Reed's hands, ignoring his protests. Waggling her fingers, she indicated the thin wool gloves that she still wore. "It's good to layer up in the snow," she told him. She also pulled the red knit cap from her head and tugged it down over his ears, rewrapping the long scarf around her neck to cover her own head. Shifting around, Malcolm noticed that he was seated on a waterproof pad, and gave Andie an arch look.

"How long have you been camping out here anyway?" he wondered.

"Long enough to know to stay dry," she answered, which wasn't really the answer he'd been looking for. Digging through a bag at her side, Andie pulled out a few essentials: water packs, rations and a flashlight.

"Where did you get all that?" Malcolm asked.

"I've spent some time in unpredictable landscapes," she smirked. "I never leave home without provisions." She offered him a nutrition bar which he accepted gratefully.

"How about a communicator?" he joked.

She grimaced. "I think I left it in my other bag," she admitted, crimson staining her cheeks.

She offered him some water too. He accepted gratefully. "Pity we can't build a fire," he mentioned.

Andrea rolled her eyes and said nothing more. From an inner pocket of her heavy coat, she withdrew a small notebook, bound with coiled wire.

"What's that?" he asked, feeling awkward and wondering how he could charm a woman into giving up her most valuable secrets, like Trip always seemed to do with ease.

"Godfreids' notes," she answered tersely. "He did love his paper. Paid dearly for it, too, on the black market."

"Paper? To write on?" Malcolm was surprised. Paper was no longer the most convenient method of preserving notes. Another thought occurred to him. "Did you get the notes from Godfreid's room when you 'explored' his room for cigars?" She nodded absently, peering nearsightedly at the tiny writing in the dim light. "You've been busy," he commented idly.

"Yeah," she mocked acidly. "I wasn't just sitting around a fire waiting for the little woman to serve up vittles. I was actually working on something useful." She flipped open the little book and used a tiny flashlight to peer at the neat writing on the inside. Malcolm peered over her shoulder but it all looked like gibberish to him. "Written in shorthand," Andie murmured without waiting for Reed to complain.

Her brow furrowed. "He always kept meticulous notes on his scientific studies, but he kept a small journal of important non-scientific details. We might find out what happened here."

"How did you know about this book?" Malcolm wondered out loud. The blizzard and snow bears took a backseat in his mind.

"I used to work with Godfreid, when I was in school," she told him hesitantly. "He always kept it under his bed. It was easy enough to retrieve. I just told Dick that Godfreid liked to hide stuff in the maintenance closet and snatched it when he went down the hall."

"Maintenance closet?" Malcolm snickered. "And that worked?"

Andie leveled a dark eye on the man next to her. "When's the last time you looked in _Enterprise's_ maintenance closets?"

Malcolm stopped laughing.

"I also told him to check behind the toilet tank," she shoved one hand back into her coat pocket to keep warm. "They always seem to hide stuff there in the movies. When he turned his back, I slipped a pack out the window. Went back to retrieve it instead of cooking." This last sentence carried a hint of snide victory. That explained the snow in her hair, Malcolm thought, when they were setting up their bedding. She had been leaning out the window in the snow.

"Any luck?" Malcolm raised his chin to nod at the hand-written journal, unwilling to discuss his own role in the personification of masculine arrogance.

"He thought their claws might be poisonous. He mentions madness overtaking the other scientists, but it doesn't specify what the madness was. We'll have to retrieve the logs from the science lab at the station." She started tucking things back into the pack as though she didn't plan to remain here.

"Are we going somewhere?" he asked.

"We need to get back to the research station," she told him calmly.

"How are we going to find our way in this mess?" he wondered. "Wouldn't we be better off to stay here until the storm breaks?"

"I'd rather be eaten by snow bears than spend the night here with you," she told him, her voice mild compared to the nasty sentiment she expressed. His face registered the bitterness of her words with surprise. "It might shock you to know that sleeping with the armory officer isn't the best way to further my career as a spoiled socialite!"

Malcolm froze. "You heard that," he mumbled. He muttered that in the hall to Mayweather a few days ago.

"You were shouting in a corridor," she reminded him. "I'm sure several people heard that."

"I didn't mean...I didn't..." Malcolm gulped. "I underestimated you," he finished, feeling his cheeks warm with shame. Her adroit maneuvers in conversation that caught the scientists in a lie, the casual way she ransacked a room to discover information, even the way she'd slipped out of the room without causing a scene, proved that she had a sharp mind in that pretty head of hers. He'd been stupid to be so dismissive.

"Whatev..." her dismissal of his apology trailed off and her head tilted to the side as she listened to the wind howl outside of their narrow shelter. He started to whisper and she held up a hand for silence.

He could hear it now, whatever it was. A twig snapped and branches rustled, not on this tree, but one close by. "Man or beast?" he wondered out loud.

Andie barely shook her head to indicate that she didn't know. Her hand was already reaching for the blanket they sat on, her body tensed in anticipation of the flight that was surely forthcoming. Shifting his weight, Malcolm prepared to flee with her, into this interminable, abominable blizzard. They would both surely freeze together. Or die trying, his mind whispered to him, making him want to giggle at the inanity of the statement.

Reaching out with her thinly gloved hand, Andie took his thickly mittened grasp in hers. "Let's not wait around," she whispered. Tugging his arm, they crawled out of the hollow and into the full force of the storm. She grabbed his collar even as he ducked his head into it to keep his face warm, and urged him to follow her.

It took several moments to realize that she held a string in her hands and was leading them back to the station. Malcolm wondered how long exactly they'd left her alone in the kitchen; she'd been busy. They stumbled through the thick drifts of snow, using each other for balance, seeking shelter from the dark snuffling noises that followed behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 9

* * *

Archer found he didn't have the heart to rest anymore. He stood at the window, straining his eyes into the whirling whiteness, hoping to see a familiar figure lurching toward the building. There hadn't been any movement for some time.

Whirling with an impotent rage, he pinned Dr. Richards with a steely green glance. "I want to see your research!" he growled. "There must be something there to explain what the hell is going on!"

Richards gulped. To his credit, he didn't even bother trying to waver; he simply turned and showed Archer the way to the laboratory in the basement of the station.

* * *

Trip stood stiffly at the window in the aft observation room. His arms were crossed over his chest and his posture discouraged anyone from coming inside. The growing storm on the planet's surface reflected the magnetic properties of communications and sensors and sent them back at the ship. It was like scanning a mirror. From orbit, they couldn't talk to their crew or check on their progress.

He didn't like being in the dark. He hated feeling so helpless while his captain, his crew, his friends suffered unknown dangers below. Commander T'Pol had actually suggested that he take some time and gather his thoughts. Apparently he was scaring the engineering staff with his unusually gruff attitude. They were working diligently on the repairs to both shuttle pods. When the clouds parted, Trip intended to be down there the very single second after.

Andie hadn't even wanted to go on this away mission, he thought. Archer had a habit of forcing people to do things they didn't think they wanted to do, in order to face their fears and grow from the experience. His jaw tightened. It would be tragic if she didn't survive her first mission, when she hadn't wanted to go in the first place.

A picture came to mind; a tiny figure, barely distinguishable from the great distance, socking a pompous kid in the mouth before climbing bare-handed up a steep rock face without ropes or security measures of any kind. Trip wondered why he was worried about Andie at all. Maybe he should be worried about Malcolm, or, considering the way Andie shouted at Archer, maybe he should be worried about the captain.

T'Pol paused in the doorway and watched the chief engineer stare morosely at the white globe outside the window. "The captain has survived extreme circumstances before," she reminded him quietly.

Tucker didn't even jump. He'd seen her reflection in the window. "I know," he acknowledged quietly.

"Lieutenant Reed is trained in tactical maneuvers," she stated the obvious.

Trip grunted. T'Pol moved to stand next to him.

"It would be an appropriate use of your time to continue with the repairs to the shuttle pods," she urged softly. Brown eyes turned up to glance at Trip out of the corner of her gaze.

"Yeah," he sighed deeply. Blue eyes turned to his companion. "Thanks for the pep talk," he mocked gently.

Her lip curled at the corner, as she admitted wryly, "As the first officer, the emotional stability of the crew is part of my job."

He couldn't help himself. His hand reached out and brushed her back in a gesture of friendly goodwill. She stiffened. He dropped his hand.

"Gotta get back to work," he frowned. Turning, he left the room, leaving behind a Vulcan whose expressionless features watched him go.

* * *

As far as he could tell, it was all just gibberish. Archer tossed another data pad across the narrow workbench in the lab. Silver cylinders were lined up around the room, filled with deep ice core samples. Charts and graphs were displayed around the room, but for all Archer's education, it might as well have been written in Sanskrit. Only, he thought, Sanskrit would be better because Hoshi had a program for translating a two thousand year old dead language into plain English.

Richards tried to explain. If this planet contained a viable water supply, it might become a consideration for human colonization. But the scientists had discovered a native inhabitant of the planet, a group of migratory bear-like creatures who fed voraciously on raw meat. Their teeth and claws were found to carry a virus, transmitted by contact. The virus infects the human biology and transforms the person into a creature similar to the snow bears.

"They become an animal?" Jon queried. This sounded like something out of one of Trip's black and white movies.

"If the infection isn't treated in time, they lose all semblance of their humanity," Richards told him, his face lighting up with the glee of a new discovery.

"So there's a cure?" Archer demanded to know.

"Well," Richards hesitated. "We're working on one now." He gestured to another pile of data pads.

"Why didn't you tell us this when we first arrived!" Archer shouted.

Richards shrugged, his hands trailing along the cylinders and vials that littered the room. "We hadn't finished conducting our research," he offered as way of explanation.

Studying a large diagram of teeth hanging over most of one corner wall, Archer sighed heavily. "That's why there aren't more scientists here," he murmured.

"We've been hunted and picked off, one by one!" Richards wailed. "It's been terrible."

"Like you picked off their herds?" Archer frowned. Richards' body language indicated a remorse that wasn't indicated by his vocal mannerisms. Archer hadn't failed to note the tiny corner of fur caught in the door of a cupboard on the far side of the room either. He was afraid the scientists had turned to primitive methods again, despite all of Earth's history outlining the folly of such actions. He didn't think Andie would have been surprised.

"It's what we were here to do!" Dr. Richards tone turned ugly. "We were supposed to judge the likelihood of colonization, and we can't assess all the risks until we determine the level of danger from the indigenous creatures!"

"You're supposed to assess the risk to the creatures as well!" Archer bellowed. He had a whole lot more to say on the subject, but a foreign sound made its way to his ears. He held up a hand for silence.

"What's that?"

* * *

Andie stopped and held up her hand for silence. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her ears trying to determine the direction of the sound in the whirling vortex of white. Malcolm hovered near her, as much for body heat as for protection.

The sound was something familiar, a staccato rhythm tapping out a steady beat. By the time Andie realized what it was, she had very little time to act. She dropped Malcolm's arm and tugged on his wrist with the hand that had been twisting of its own volition during the long walk.

"Follow the line," she told him. "It's tied off to the drain on the side of the station. Keep to your left and you'll find the pantry door." Slipping something out of her coat and into his breast pocket, he felt the icy curl of metal rings around the strangely crisp feel of paper against his skin. "Hoshi can translate it. Get it to Phlox."

"What are you doing?" He raised his hand to grab her arm, and realized that she tangled a thin line in a loop around his wrist. The knot she'd tied was pretty sturdy and although she'd only slid it over his hand, he couldn't get it off his wrist.

"Protect the captain," she warned him darkly. "That's your job. This is mine." The staccato beat came closer and a growl could be heard in the dark. She left his side, and he couldn't reach her. Between the sharp curst of wind, he could barely see two shadows veering off on the same vector.

"Doctor!" His voice was carried away by the winds shrieking with glee at his folly. He would have followed her, but for a loud noise in the opposite direction, closer to the station. He looked back and forth, torn between his duties, but in the end, the captain won out.

* * *

Andie ran into the snowstorm without thought for her own safety. The pounding rhythm of someone or something running through the thick snow paused at her defection from her companion, but turned to follow her as she slipped through the strangely muffled world, as she had both known and feared it would.

It was only a few moments before she could hear heavy chunky breaths taken behind her. She had run out of time to run.

She was going to face this one on one.

Assuming a defensive posture, she held her hands up and waited for the inevitable. He was practically on top of her before she could see anything definitively. Darryl didn't look like himself though.

His eyes were yellow, as though he suffered from jaundice. His fingernails had extended into talons, and his gait was a strange loping movement that kept him on all fours like a dog. His clothes hung in tatters on his frame which seemed to be elongating and crouching. He grinned when he saw her, the smile of the hunter who had found his prey. A growl exuded from his throat like a dog preparing to attack.

"What the hell happened to you?" Her voice trembled with fear and cold. There was nothing more to it ask the moment. She had made her choices and now she might die from them.

Darryl pounced. The full weight of his body knocked her to the ground into a sarcophagus of snow. Catching his hands, or paws in her grip, she tried to hold him at bay by force of her will. It wasn't hard to see that he was stronger.

A snarl caught his attention. Darryl lifted his wolf-like face and his expression registered surprise. Another growl and a dark gray lupine creature jumped him from the side and the canines rolled together in the snow. Struggling out of the thick powder, Andie tried to ascertain what was going on. The two creatures bit and snapped and barked at each other with harsh voices. A single yelp cut through the night, and the older, larger wolf stood victorious.

It licked its chops and returned to Andie, still huddled on her knees in the snow. She didn't really hold out hope to be more than a quick snack for this new hunter, but she couldn't have moved even if she'd wanted to. Her shaking knees refused to hold her weight.

The wolf leaned down and lapped at the snow, clearing its jaws of the remains of its kill. It sat on its haunches in front of her. Dogs had a way of appearing to smile, and this creature did as well. It looked very pleased with itself. It crouched on the ground near her, like a human hunkering down to take a closer look at the ground, but this was no human.

A scattering of fur covered its head and shoulders, while cloth hung in shreds around its waist. The snout was elongated, like wolf, complete with whiskers and sharp incisors. It snuffled and panted in front of her, pawing the ground in front of it with digits that were more like paw and claw than hand and finger. Raising a back leg, from its curiously human hindquarters, it scratched the back of one ear, raised at attention, like a dog chasing a flea.

Showing no signs of resuming its attack, Andie risked its wrath by shining a flashlight at the lupine figure. Something gleamed in the dull light. Remembering all the warnings about approaching strange animals, Andie continued to kneel with her head down, refusing to look in its eyes. Tentatively she held out a hand, offering the creature a chance to smell her and deem her safe.

Licking it chops, it leaned forward and lapped its tongue against her thin gloves, dipping its head down to rub against her palm. Obligingly she rubbed its ears. Her hand slipped around its friendly neck to touch on the gold pendant that hung from its neck covered with a thin layer of fur. The light exposed a circle imprinted with a horizontal eight, crossed straight through with a line.

"There is no eternity," she murmured. She recognized the medal immediately. It was one she'd given to her friend before he went away. Tears filled her eyes. Her voice shook. "Godfreid?" she whispered.

The creature whined and panted, looking at her with curious yellow eyes. After the changes she saw in Darryl, she thought she understood. Godfreid was mistaken when he called it madness. They had an illness that was transforming them into the creatures that bit them.

"Werewolves," she muttered, shaking her head. She looked at the creature. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Covering her fear with ire didn't take away the cold creeping into her bones.

Godfreid looked at her with his doggy face, seeming to roll its eyes with her. The wolf stood on all fours, reaching out to carefully tug on her sleeve. She struggled to her feet. "You recognize me still?" she asked out loud, not really expecting a response. The creature tugged again, drawing her after him.

"Where are we going?" It was a stupid question, considering he could no longer answer her even if he wanted to, but she'd always anthropomorphized the creatures around her. Burying her cold hand in the thick ruff of fur around Godfreid's neck, she allowed this strange wolf to lead her into the night.

* * *

"Captain! They've taken her! She's missing!" Malcolm found the pantry door, half open just as he'd first seen it. The inside of the pantry was in disarray. Containers had been knocked over and damp patches on the floor indicated snow that had melted. He rushed through the kitchen, bumping his hip on the counter so hard that his eyes watered, but continuing without stopping.

Inside the main hall, a large pane of glass had been shattered and the couches were overturned, spilling their stuffing into the suddenly chilly room. The fire had died down and the lights were no longer as bright.

"Captain?" Malcolm called out again, pulling his sidearm and peering cautiously around corners.

He heard a moan and hurried to the door in the corner. He expected it to be a maintenance closet, and was surprised to find a steep set of stairs instead. Nearly at the top of the stairs was the captain, nursing a wound on his temple.

"Richards jumped me," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "We head a noise, and when I started to investigate, he hit me over the head and left me down there. I don't know where he went," he finished, answering Malcolm's next question.

He looked up at the dark-haired man. "Where's Andie?" he asked wearily.

"She disappeared," he was not surprised to learn. Malcolm outlined the last couple of hours in a few short sentences.

"Everyone keeps disappearing, and everyone seems to understand why except me!" Archer growled. His own ire made his head ache. Malcolm reluctantly left him alone to seek medicine from a nearby lavatory. He found a bandage for the weeping wound, and a hypo loaded with a painkiller. The bandages were well-stocked, as though the inhabitants were accustomed to minor medical anomalies.

By the time he returned, Archer had pushed one of the couches upright and sat quietly, nursing his wound. Using the basic medical training Starfleet offered, Lieutenant Reed patched up his captain.

They looked around the destruction in the room. "Do you think he was attacked by the bears?" Malcolm wondered.

"There doesn't appear to be any blood," Archer noted. "Mostly it looks like somebody tossed the place in a search."

The Brit's head turned quickly. "What do you suppose they were looking for?" he wondered out loud, conscious of the paper still resting against his skin. Archer shrugged. Pulling the spiral notebook out of its resting place, he repeated in low tones the conversation he had with Andie. "She thinks he might have written some secret notes in here, but it's all scribbled in code."

"She snooped through his belongings without permission? She had no right!" Archer's head looked like it might explode. He paused. "It was a good idea though."

The armory officer stood quietly, judging his captain's temper. "If we could transmit this to Hoshi, perhaps she could make headway on all this."

Jon sighed, rolling his head around on his neck to relieve the pinch and pull of the muscles that seemed to be causing his headache. He stopped. He didn't know why he didn't see it before.

"When we first landed, this building reminded me of the Taj Mahal," Archer commented looking up.

Malcolm followed the captain's gaze. "So why is there a low ceiling here?" he wondered out loud, receiving an acknowledging nod from his superior. The room had high ceilings, but there was a solid roof over their heads that looked nothing like the glass dome they now remembered on the roof.

"If only we could find a way up there," Archer mused, rising and creeping around the room.

"Maybe we should try the maintenance closets," Malcolm muttered. At Archer's inquisitive glance, he added, "When's the last time you looked in Enterprise's maintenance closets?"

"Every six months," Archer told him, crossing the room to fling open the narrow unmarked door on the other side. "Maintenance has a regular inspection scheduled every six months."

How is it that the tactical officer missed that tidbit for three and a half years? Malcolm wondered.

* * *

Godfreid led her to one of the bear-like creatures lying on its side, licking its paws and whimpering. The animal was nearly the size of a shuttle pod, and in fact, was nursing wounds from its last encounter with one. Burns lacerated its snout, and fur was singed from its paws. It tried to growl and rise when the wolf appeared with its human companion, but the pain was too great. Godfreid looked up at Andie and then trotted over to the larger creature and licked its nose, dropping its torso to the ground and resting its nose against the snow. It looked like a subject greeting king.

The woman watched the lupine speak in canine terms to the carnivore with a steady expression in her eyes. They barked and growled and hissed together. She thought they were discussing something important. Godfreid licked the wounded paw of the bear, and Andie had a pretty good idea what she was doing here now. He turned and barked a short insistent bark at the human.

"I don't have my bag," she spoke out loud.

Another wolf appeared at her side and dropped her backpack on the ground nearby before scurrying the short distance to the other two. Andrea Brainerd took a moment to spin around in a short circle.

She was surrounded by wolves, like an armed guard. They barely made a sound, and had been undetectable in the fierce storm, but they gathered around now as though watching her every move. Not all of them were completely wolf-like; some were obviously still transitioning, like science experiments gone awry. The storm seemed to lessen slightly, except Andie wasn't as happy about that now.

Godfreid barked again. Andie picked up the bag and moved carefully toward the larger wounded creature, muttering to herself. "How old are those cigars? Does nicotine go bad? Because I might be hallucinating." She was shivering uncontrollably, even though she could barely feel the cold anymore.

Not far from the white bear-like creature, she dropped to her knees and lowered her head, offering the same welcoming hand she would offer to any wild creature. The burned animal growled and whined, but made no sudden movements toward her. All around the wolf pack panted and watched with dark yellow eyes. They were ensuring the safety of their leader, she thought.

On her knees she crawled toward the creature to apply a painkiller and a salve to the animal who kept its nose pointed toward Godfreid. It looked as though it was pointedly ignoring her existence, which made her just as happy. Slipping her medical tricorder out of her bag, she pointed the machine at the bear, and surreptitiously at her former friend. The readouts made her heart sink. There wasn't any human DNA registering on the scan.

He may act like her human friend, but there didn't seem to be a part of him that remained behind to save. Swallowing roughly, she turned carefully and scanned the creatures that sat around her. On a hunch she scanned herself as well. Saving the data, she slid the machine back into her pack and stepped back from the large creature.

It sat upright. Lying on its side, it was still taller than she was. One mighty paw reached out and thumped her backward. She slid through the snow and came to a halt under the slavering jaws of a wolf who leered at her. She didn't move.

* * *

It wasn't the first door but the second one they opened that offered up the stairs to the second floor. It was quiet up there, and hot. Every spare heater in the building had been lugged up and engaged, to keep the computers warm enough to function. Richards sat at a desk on the far side, calling uselessly into a microphone for his companion to call into base.

Archer and Reed were already sweating, having shed their outer wear downstairs and continued conducting their tour in the tight cold-weather gear underneath. Both expressions were dark as they noted the outpouring of power here that could have been rerouted to communications in order to reach the ship in orbit.

Malcolm pulled his phase pistol again and aimed for the scientist. He hoped it was on the stun setting, but couldn't summon up the urgency to check. Archer sallied forth.

"Guess you had a really good reason for keeping all of this a secret?" Jon's voice was hard as nails.

Richards whirled around in his chair, his jowls shaking at the confusion of being interrupted. "We can monitor their progress up here," he quaked; seeing the pistol only served to make him perspire as well.

"Not anymore," Reed growled. "We're calling _Enterprise_ and we're getting out of here."

"But the changes in the human physiology is so profound!" Richards eyes were glazed over, but Archer had the sinking feeling it was fervor rather than a viral infection that caused it. "If we can study the way that humans resort back to their predatory selves, we can better understand our own evolution from gorillas to mankind!"

"You've been studying this mess while your coworkers go missing?" Archer's mind boggled at the idea of sitting by and watching this disease take everyone around him. He peeked quickly at the notes and sketches on the data pads around the room.

Keeping one eye on the crazy old coot, Reed stepped over to the massive telescope and peered into the snowy night. "The storm seems to be decreasing," he told his captain.

Captain Archer nodded in acknowledgment, pulling his communicator from his pocket and flipping it open to hear the cheerful chirp that connected him with his crew. "Archer to _Enterprise_, come in!" he barked.

"They're coming!" Richards giggled insanely. "They're coming to get us!"

"We'll get you the help you need," Archer promised.

"I don't think he's talking about _Enterprise_," Malcolm noted, waving his superior over to take a look through the telescope.

Outside in the diminishing whirl of whiteness, the shadows seemed to be moving this direction.

* * *

"The starboard thruster is not as efficient as it should be, but it'll get me there and back," Mayweather promised as he walked with Commander Tucker to Launch Bay One. He was dressed in cold-weather gear, and wore a firearm on his hip.

"This isn't a sightseeing tour, Travis," Tucker reminded the young man, again. "Just get down there and check on the crew and get back here."

"Yes, sir," Travis snapped off a salute as they entered the room.

He knew he was being a fussbudget, and that his constant reminders were frustrating the young ensign. "I wish I was going with you," he admitted. "If there were room for seven, I'd go along, but we need the room for all the known survivors down there, and..." Travis was nodding knowingly when T'Pol's voice cut into their conversation.

"Bridge to Commander Tucker," she said.

"Go ahead, T'Pol," the young man leaned on the communication panel on the wall.

"Ensign Sato reported receiving a message from Captain Archer. The communication was cut off before he could impart information about his condition, but the captain is alive and well."

"Thanks, T'Pol," Trip sighed in relief. "That's good news. I think we ought to go ahead with the shuttle launch, though, don't you?" he queried. He was relieved that she felt the same.

"I would make the same recommendation, Commander," she agreed. Signing off, she instructed Hoshi to continue to monitor the planet as best she could under the circumstances, and the ship held its breath as Travis Mayweather headed for the planet's surface.


	10. Chapter 10

**The New Doctor**

**By Lieuten Keen**

Disclaimer: The regular ENT cast belongs to Paramount. Andie's all mine, not that anyone else would want her!

* * *

The creature standing over her finally moved back through the snow, and Andie was finally able to sit upright. Her body ached from lying still so long. Godfreid stepped up to her feet and barked at her once. He pawed at her boots and she struggled to stand, finding it difficult to retain her balance all of a sudden. She was too hot, and struggled with the scarf around her neck. The world swirled around her, but she remained upright. Gentle teeth grabbed her wrist again, and she stumbled through the snow at his side. They were surrounded by the herd, both large bear-like creatures and the wolves that served them, and the carnivorous party made their way back to the research station.

* * *

Archer and Reed kept busy downstairs, checking locks and securing windows. They lifted one of the sofas against the window that had been broken, and checked the charges on their phase pistols. Having nothing else to do but wait, they returned to the observation tower, hoping that the animals outside would be unable to reach the upper level. The communicator remained closed in Archer's pocket.

"Captain," Reed pulled his gaze from the view finder of the telescope. "I think you need to see this, sir."

Archer took his turn, focusing his green gaze on the approaching pack. What he saw confounded him. Dr. Andrea Brainerd walked at the head of the group without fear. Behind her stretched out two dozen wolves and at least that many large polar creatures. Their fangs dripped with saliva over the upcoming battle, yet she didn't seem troubled. The coloring of her face seemed wrong, but from this distance it was hard to tell.

"What the hell is she doing?" he wondered out loud. Confusion reflected in Reed's face. Richards giggled from his seat near the rear window.

"They got her," he cackled. "I picked it up on a scanner last night when she disappeared. Darryl scratched her! She's one of them now. Her metabolic rate is off the charts! She'll turn at any moment!" He raced for a pen and stylus. "I must document this!"

Archer and Reed looked at one another with concern.

"You don't think she'd really turn so fast do you?" Reed asked his captain.

Archer had nothing to say to him. He had a need to defend every member of his crew, but he wasn't sure he knew enough about Andie to make that determination. She had a passion for animals, but surely she'd choose to fight for her human companions first. Wouldn't she?

They could only wait for her to arrive.

* * *

Stopping outside the main complex, Andie ran her fingers through the fur on Godfreid's back. She no longer felt the cold, but she was hungry, ravenous, as though she hadn't eaten for days. She stooped down on her knee next to her old friend.

"It's happening to me to, isn't it?" she asked the creature, who licked her face. Her face was already wet with perspiration, and she could feel thoughts slipping through her mind like sand through her fingers.

Shaking off her exhaustion and the pain that had begun to plague all her joints, she stood in the snow and raised her voice for all the animals to hear. "There is one left. Let's go to our own."

Holding her head up, she moved to the rear of the complex and stared at the mighty picture window. A thought crossed her mind and a wolf appeared at her side as though she'd summoned it. It dropped a large branch on the ground at her feet. It was just what she'd wanted. Picking it up, she sent the debris flying through the massive window at the rear, and with the shattered remains all the wolves jumped through the splintered window, snarling and howling.

One mighty roar from the larger creatures behind her, and she stepped through the opening without hesitation. There was no uncertainty as she slipped quickly down the narrow door that led down to the scientific research. It was no trouble to find the door, hidden behind the cabinet, marked accidentally by animal fur. Shoving it open, she found what she wanted.

* * *

Upstairs Archer and Reed exchanged glances. Archer pulled out his communicator and began to summon the ship. There was only the crackle of static on his end. In the corner, Richards giggled insanely, and scribbled furiously on a data pad.

"Take scans of the formulas," Archer barked to Reed. "When we get her back to the ship, Phlox'll need the data to create a vaccine!"

"You're assuming this can be reversed?" Reed inquired. His own instincts told him to blast those creatures away from the captain, and get to a shuttle, but he deferred to his superior's decision. He took scans, listening with one ear to the destruction happening down below.

Through the glass dome that constituted the walls of this station, he could see that the larger creatures had formed a watchful march around the outside of the station. They roared every now and again, and created their own destruction. The remains of the snow-cats lay in a smoking heap next to the loading dock at the back of the station; there was no possibility of getting in a vehicle and running away from them. On the other side, three larger creatures used teeth and claws to tear up the remaining surface of the landing pad.

Downstairs the noise was not as prevalent as it had been. Reed handed his scanner back to the captain. "I'd like to take a look down there," he told him.

"Malcolm, I'd rather you stayed here," Archer told him, the unease of the situation making him nervous. He hated to be nervous in front of his crew.

"We need to know what they're up to, and," Malcolm nodded at the scientist muttering to himself in the corner, "...we can't rely on his data."

Hating the choice, Archer nodded firmly. "Be careful," he admonished.

Reed slipped down the narrow stairs and peered carefully around the narrow door that looked like a supply closet. The room was empty. He slipped further out of the door, hearing crashes and thuds from somewhere close by.

"There you are," a voice purred from across the room. Her pale face blended in with the gray world outside, and Malcolm hadn't noticed Dr. Brainerd watching him. She sniffed deeply, as though gathering his scent for a hunt. One look at her yellowing eyes told him that might be exactly the case. She shuddered, suddenly, as though biting flies were landing all over her skin.

"Dick and Derelict were keeping one in the basement," she panted, perspiration making her gleam in the dull light. "I think it's the queen. The wolves serve their masters. They won't be wolves any longer, they'll be hum--." She stopped and tried again to speak around her slowly slurring words. "No, that's wrong. They won't be human, they'll be wolves."

She looked at Reed painfully, as though even the dim light was bothering her eyes. "You were safe upstairs. Go back."

"We've got to get you out of here," he spoke quietly. He pondered the dangers in bringing her back to the ship.

"Shuttle's on its way," she choked out. "Please. Leave." Her hands clutched her stomach and she fought back a moan.

"How do you know?" he wondered.

"I can...smell it," she told him. Her head darted to the right, and she whispered more urgently. "I can't hold him back. They want blood for...blood. Go, now!" Her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor.

Without thinking, Reed left the relative safety of the secret door and moved across the room to help his crewmate. Only halfway there, he realized his folly when he heard a growl. Dark gray-blue eyes looked up to find a wolf, more creature than man, crouching in the narrow door that led down to the basement lab, according to Archer. A medallion dangled from its neck, and Reed understood that this is what happened to the other humans here.

On the floor, Andie whimpered, tearing at the clothes she wore, as though they choked her. Malcolm stepped forward carefully. The wolf in the doorway growled and bared its teeth, its hackles raised. Reed reached for his pistol.

The wolf leaped.

Andie pounced when he did. She and Godfreid collided in mid-air, leaving Reed free to retreat closer to the secret door.

The two former humans grappled with one another, clutching each other tightly and emitting hisses and whines. Teeth snapped. Talons grew. Over and over they rolled together. The thing that was Andie wound up on the bottom of the heap as the howls of the creatures grew louder outside. She looked up into the face of her former friend, with her hand pushing against his throat to keep him at bay. The pendant dangled in front of her nose. Godfreid's yellow eyes met her own bloodshot orbs. Using her free hand, she yanked the charm from his neck while bringing her legs up under him. Both legs kicked together to send him flying across the room. He hit the wall hard and slid to the ground with a yelp.

Together both creatures leaped to their feet and squared off again, panting. They didn't move, only eyed each other from across the distance that separated them. A dull gleam from her hand indicated that she held it now, the final gift. The wolf sat down, breathing heavily, recognition dim in its canine eyes.

Outside the howls grew louder and the thumps of many paws could be heard racing up the stairs from the lab. With one last short bark, Godfreid turned and rushed downstairs to meet his pack. Stumbling across the room, Andie swung the door shut.

"Malcolm! Get up here! Travis brought the shuttle pod!" Archer's voice carried down from the observation tower.

Reed stepped forward and looked carefully at Andie who slumped on the ground in front of the door. "We're getting out of here," he told her quietly. "Come on." He held out his hand.

She shook her head. "Go," she growled morosely. "There's nothing left of me."

"Phlox is a fine physician," he declared. "He'll find something."

She shook her head without looking at him. "I can't hold it back anymore."

"Malcolm!" The voice upstairs grew more urgent.

"Godfreid is...was an exobiogeneticist. If he couldn't cure this, there is no hope." She raised her face then, and despite his best intentions, his skin crawled. Fur began to cover her cheeks and her eyes were yellow. Fangs glistened with saliva. "You're beginning to smell good, man." Her gaze snapped into focus, even as she pushed herself up into a crouch.

Reed backed away. She crept forward. He saw the change in her gaze and turned to run for the door, pulling it shut behind him as a significant weight collided with the outside. Barely two meters away, on the other side of the door a long howl split the early dawn hours. Outside the station, two dozen voices rose in answer. Several roars could be heard over the din.

Racing upwards, Malcolm shook his head at the captain, who took his arm and hurried him across the room. A pane had been broken out of the dome, and the square corners of the research station had served as an acceptable landing pad for the shuttle, even if one of the runners hung over the edge. If Mayweather hadn't been the best damn pilot in the fleet, he never would have made it. "Stay there, Travis!" Archer waved the man to remain in the driver's seat.

Beneath them the ground shook. "They're tearing the building apart!" Archer shouted above the destruction and the engine. "Where's Andie?" His footing on the narrow ledge outside the Observation Tower slipped, but he gathered himself before he tumbled off the building.

"She's not coming, sir!" Malcolm told him with a heavy heart. The storm had quieted to a thin flurry of snow and dawn crept over the landscape in a welcome bath of light. It could have been a beautiful morning.

Behind them a particularly loud crash was followed by a short blast from a rifle.

"You're not going to leave!" Dr. Richards declared. "If you tell them, they'll shut me down, and I can't leave now! Not when we're so close!" He waved an EM-33 at them. Reed stepped in front of the captain, placing himself in harm's way.

"Let's talk about this!" Archer stepped forward with his hands raised in surrender.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Richards squealed. "A lifetime of study of the human genome cannot be erased by one little setback!" He twisted his mouth at Archer. "Good-bye, Captain!" He raised his weapon with hands that no longer shook.

"Hello, Dick."

That voice was familiar even though it was not quite human anymore.

Richards turned around slowly, his whole body trembling. "Doc...Doctor...Brainerd," he stuttered.

"We...talked about...this. Be careful...of your...test subjects." She panted and paced, like a caged animal, clothes hanging in tatters on a frame that was rapidly disappearing under a veil of gray fur. "The Queen...would like a word...about that." One paw hit the gun away, and the other tore a row of furrows on his cheek. She growled. On the ground a lone wolf barked.

She stood on the other side of the scientist; Reed couldn't fire at her without hitting the madman.

Claws reached out to grab his collar and pull him close to her face. Her smile exposed the long sharp points of her teeth. "Don't...keep...Godfreid...waiting," she panted. With a grunt, she tossed Richards over the side of the building.

Archer raced to peer over the edge, while Reed kept his gun trained on his former associate. Richards landed quite easily in a deep drift of snow. The wind flew out of his lungs, but his eyes were open and cognizant of his surroundings. At present, he was surrounded by wolves.

The building shuddered again, as bear-like creatures flung themselves at the outside, trying to batter down the walls. Around the corner crept a creature. She was larger than the others, and a dark gray. Naked patches of skin appeared all over her body where white dots could be seen. Archer realized with a start that those were the pads that adhered to the human body when hooked up to machines in a medical lab.

They'd caught the queen and started experimenting on her. Her slaves had come to rescue her. Now it appeared that she would be beginning some experiments of her own. She picked up Richards in her mouth as though he was a kitten and with a snuffling noise, all the wolves began to leave. They followed her out into the snow like a royal guard.

A noise turned Archer's head. Andie clutched her own head and whined with pain.

"Make it stop!" she growled. She lunged at Reed, who didn't hesitate to fire.

* * *

She woke up gasping for air. She couldn't breathe, the walls were too close; she was dying. Struggling in her restraints, she heard a noise that was vaguely familiar, a click and a whine.

Her head broke free and she realized that she was wrapped in a navy blue Starfleet issue wool blanket so tightly that she resembled a burrito. One arm extended from her confinement and she used it to push herself up from the bunk she rested on.

Reed stood poised to shoot at her from across the room, the phase pistol charged and ready. He was wearing an environmental suit; she was not.

The lights were making her eyes blurry. "The hell?" she croaked. She felt awful. Everything hurt.

She heard a familiar echo around her, and realized she was in the Decontamination Chamber aboard Enterprise. Cognizance came slowly.

"How do you feel, Doctor?" Reed inquired. He didn't lower his weapon.

"Like I was trampled by a herd of wild animals and shot," she groused. She wriggled around in the confines of her blanket, before sitting upright. The world swam unpleasantly around her. Lowering her head, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again to study her surroundings, and her furry arms.

"Between Godfreid's journal and the scientists' studies, Phlox is working on a cure for you." Reed's voice was neutral and brisk.

Her eyes rose hopefully to his. He shook his head. "The others were too far gone. We found records of their DNA in your pack and they had passed a no-return point."

"You want to get that gun out of my face?" she snarled. Reluctantly, he lowered the pistol.

"You're awake," a kind voice transmitted through the speakers. Andie looked up to see Phlox peering through the decon window at the other end of the chamber. "You're doing better," Phlox reassured her. "Godfreid's notes may have saved your life."

"The others?" she asked again. Her throat was dry and she was hungry.

Phlox sighed. He hated to deliver bad news on top of bad news, but she seemed insistent. "It seems that Doctors Richards was involved in testing a new genetic resequencing agent, meant to stimulate the strength and agility of human allowances. He had been injecting it into laboratory mice. They got away from him and chewed holes in the cabinetry. That's why they called for rodent control." He nodded at her.

As though on cue, an orange tomcat leaped into the window and rested precariously on the narrow ledge to peer inside. His golden eyes focused on his mistress with concern. He hissed softly.

"When the rats were gone, it appears he tested the material on the local creatures. His experiments were dangerous, as you can well attest. The research site has been closed down pending further investigation by Starfleet." Phlox nodded. "You're getting better, Doctor."

He disappeared from view, talking about another injection. Andie's head ached. Painfully she focused on Lieutenant Reed. "You stayed with me? I could have killed you."

"It's my job to protect the crew," he told her. "Even spoiled socialites like you." His joke fell flat, and only served to make Andie scowl. On the ledge in the Decon window, Leon hissed again.

"Somebody shut that damn cat up!" Snarling with rage, she leaped toward the dividing walls. Reed had spent almost two days with her already, and didn't hesitate. He fired the pistol and stunned her back into unconsciousness.

Obviously she wasn't cured yet.

* * *

Coming back into her own mind was a little tricky for a while. The next time she was fully aware of her surroundings, she found herself in Sickbay. Her hands were curled around Ian Black's throat and she was threatening to tear out his jugular. Fear hung around him like an acrid scent and she didn't remember how she got into this place. A sound behind her turned her head. That damned Lieutenant with his damned gun! Ensign Black choked with a lack of oxygen, and for one moment, she realized this was a bad thing. Her grip loosened. He sucked air into his lungs.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Stepping back, she blinked and rubbed her eyes. "I don't..."

Malcolm Reed shot her again.

She went gladly into the darkness.

* * *

Gripping the edge of the blanket and pulling it back, Archer was expecting a scratch. Yet eight deep scratches sliced through the skin across the shoulder blades of his new young doctor and extended almost up to her hairline. Blood seeped slowly to mix with the antiseptic gel. One of Phlox's slimy creatures was fixed to her right shoulder and pulsed with every breath she took. Trip was more than a little queasy at the sight.

"They didn't bleed much in the cold, but they started flowing when she got warmer," Phlox spoke in a hushed tone. The patient was less agitated, but still tied to the bio-bed. They were trying not to wake her while the latest medicine worked its magic.

"Lieutenant Reed did some amateur work in Decon and I've had to redo some of it. It looks worse than it is," Phlox went on.

"We found blood outside the pantry door," Archer told him. "Apparently Dr. Darryl attacked her there and administered the cuts at that time, before disappearing into the wild."

Phlox checked the readouts again. "Her body was beginning the transformation. The muscles have stretched, and she'll feel discomfort for several days in her joints: knees, elbows, neck, back." He pursed his lips and frowned. "We had one hell of a time reorganizing her DNA into its regular state. It's a good thing her body was already in a state of flux."

The senior staff looked to the physician for clarification.

"The human female body has extraordinary aptitude for change," Phlox obliged. "Following a lunar pattern, it undergoes certain chemical alterations in preparation for a physical change. It's the excess of hormone that caused her quick turn." Phlox seemed pleased with her abnormality.

"When will you wake her?" Archer asked.

"I think Doctor Brainerd should rest for a while. She'll be feeling better by tomorrow." Phlox quickly started to usher the others out, while an orange blur finally hopped up onto the next bed and watched her obsessively.

* * *

It was late at night and most of the staff had left Sickbay. Phlox was somewhere nearby, probably feeding something that grunted or studying the virus that rewrote human DNA. He was planning on writing a very long paper about it, and had asked T'Pol if she thought it might be appropriate to credit some of the work to Doctor Godfried, a man he'd never met. Raising one solemn eyebrow, she told him that giving credit to a dead man would be highly illogical. Phlox had continued with his studies.

Reed was alone for the moment, standing just inside the doors, carefully watching the slender figure asleep on the far bed.

He'd almost lost her.

Firing a phase pistol straight into her chest had hurt him almost as much as it hurt her, but he'd done it. Sitting in the rear of the pod while Travis executed the fastest evacuation of a planet's surface he'd ever attempted, Reed carried the unconscious creature in his lap. Her bone structure was changing underneath his hands and he didn't think he'd ever get that gelatinous oozing feeling of her skin rippling under his hands out of his memory. She trembled and shook with what Reed could only assume were terrible dreams.

Once aboard, Phlox had been waiting with a hypo of sedative, the strongest dose he could give her without risking permanent neurological damage. The armory officer and the captain had attempted to lift the sleeping creature out of the shuttle to be deposited in Decon, the most secure facility on board with easy access to Sickbay, but the sedative hadn't been nearly enough. Coming awake with a growl, Andie had twisted out of their arms with a roar, swiping sharp claws across Reed's neck, seeming to grow more fervent at the smell of fresh blood. It had taken another shot from the phase pistol to put her down.

Once inside Decon, Reed volunteered to stay. "I've been infected with whatever turned her," he told the captain through the speaker. "I could become just as dangerous. We're both better off in here until Phlox can find a cure." Jonathan Archer had reluctantly allowed it. Reed had nearly been taken in when she woke and seemed to speak with a rational voice, but her eyes had glazed over and Reed had been forced to discharge his weapon against her. Due to the confined space, the phase pistol had been modified to emit a short, focused charge and the impact seared the skin on her sternum even as she fell to the floor. He fancied he could still smell the scorched air.

When Phlox deemed her progress sufficient to remove her from Decon, Reed had double-checked the bindings on her wrists, used to tie her to the bio-bed. The cure that was taking so long to work on Andie had been much more successful on his transformation, and he'd never progressed to the genetic rewrite stage, so the Denobulan then shooed him out of Sickbay, telling him to rest. After a long hot shower, a clean uniform and a hearty dinner, Malcolm had returned to check on her progress, and found her on her feet choking her own med-tech. Shooting her again made his stomach clench.

In their first year in space they'd nearly lost a young man named Novakovich when the crew remained on a planet's surface after dark and a psychotropic compound had made him crazy. Reed had taken that personally. He should have protected his crew. That was his job. The captain had been taken hostage on more than one occasion, and every time it happened, Reed kicked himself for failing his duty. He took the lives and security of every single creature on board very seriously.

She had been attacked under his very nose, and hid the details of her illness from him. Her secretive nature had put her in jeopardy. Watching her toss in her sleep, Reed nourished the anger that grew inside him. She had willfully denied him crucial, need-to-know information, and he couldn't be expected to do his job well if she hid things from him.

In her sleep she whimpered. He watched her expressionlessly.

She'd lied to him. She'd misled him and outmaneuvered him and it nearly cost her life. He vowed to keep a very close eye one her. Andie would never put herself in harm's way ever again if he had anything to say about it.

Hearing a noise from the far corner of the lab, Reed detected Phlox's return. Slipping quietly out the door, the troubled man disappeared into the shadows of the nighttime lights and returned to his quarters. He found he had trouble sleeping that night.


	11. Chapter 11

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 11

* * *

She lay on her bio-bed, looking very small underneath the covers. She'd been here for two days and she looked forlorn.

Trip noted Leon crouched on the adjacent bio-bed, watching her intently, occasionally twitching his ears. Jojo slept nearby. Nobody would have guessed that a cat would be the best indicator of her wakefulness, but Leon had proved invaluable in assessing her change into the creature.

Slipping behind the curtains, he took a seat at the foot of her bio-bed. "How you doing?" he drawled.

The figure sulked in his direction. "I can't knit because my needles are weapons, can't have coffee because the caffeine might make me crazy, and I'm constantly surrounded by people trying to elevate my mood by being perky! My cat hates me," she continued. "So do my med-techs. And my former best friend is now a big scary dog!" She scowled further. "This totally sucks!"

"At least you're not in restraints anymore," Trip pointed out. His attempt to cheer her by being perky was not met with the desired result. Her scowl intensified and she sunk down into the covers. "Phlox thinks it's important to keep your blood pressure down in order to keep any recurrences from happening."

She scowled, and turned her head away.

"I have something that might make you feel better," he promised, withdrawing from behind his back a white mug from the Mess Hall. Steam rolled off the top of the fresh ground roast and Andie turned her head and quivered with anticipation. Reaching out her greedy hands, she peered quickly around to make sure Phlox wasn't nearby to snatch it away.

"You are a good man, Charles Tucker," she stated with great feeling, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. She sipped carefully and moaned with the simple pleasure.

"Chef says this is half-caf," Trip told her.

"Yes, but it's all good!" she sighed, sipping again. She sucked in her breath as though she burned her tongue and Trip waited for the temper to start to change her again, as it had previously. She scowled at the mug, but the medicine seemed to be taking hold.

Trip watched her drink with amusement. "Malcolm got kisses when he brought you coffee," he pointed out, pretending to pout.

"There wasn't any danger that I might carnivorously tear his throat out either," she pointed out, wiping the pout off his face.

"Maybe we can hold off on the kisses then," he faltered.

"That might be a good idea," she settled back onto her pillows with a sad expression. She was silent for a moment before adding, "I feel like this is all my fault."

He didn't pretend not to know what she meant. "Richards was using untested research on a foreign group of animals," he explained softly. "He had no right. The fault is his."

She was already shaking her head. "Richards sent Godfreid away from Earth so I retaliated and had him sent away. Two dozen scientists would be alive if I hadn't sought vengeance."

"You aren't responsible," he told her firmly. "You may have saved many lives by taking him away from Earth. He wouldn't have been less crazy on his own planet."

"You're just trying to cheer me up," she grumbled.

"I am trying to cheer you up," he agreed, "but that don't make me wrong." He fidgeted at her bedside, the closest human contact she'd had for several days. "I have more news. You're getting out of Sickbay."

She stared glumly, not nearly as pleased as he thought she'd be. For a doctor who lived her life within the sterile walls, she didn't seem happy to be a resident.

"I convinced Archer that you'd be more apt to remain calm if you had something to keep you busy, and since you can't treat patients in your condition, you're stuck setting up your greenhouse."

Her eyes dulled by drugs and boredom regained some of their sparkle.

Holding up a hand to forestall any arguments, he added, "You're confined to the greenhouse or your quarters, though. A steward will bring your meals, and you'll have round the clock MACO guard until Phlox declares you fit for duty."

"Done!" she agreed readily. "Thank you," her words were earnest. "You really are a good, good man." Reaching out a hand she grabbed his collar and pulled him close to kiss him firmly on the mouth.

"Er,...uh, yeah, don't I know it?" he stammered, blushing furiously and jumping to his feet.

"I guess I shouldn't do that anymore," Andie covered her embarrassment. "Jojo might get jealous." She indicated the gray cat that had finally risen and was stretching out a paw, trying to get her favorite man on board to pay her some attention. "Wouldn't want her to think I'm stealing her boyfriend." Andie's tone was light. She needed to remember that she'd scared most of the crew very badly and it would take a while for them to warm up to her again. Until then she was going to live with this gnawing ache of loneliness.

Trip scooped up the little gray cat and she lifted her sweet face to gaze on his with adoration. He was happy that petting the cat gave him something to do with his hands. "Let's go get you into a shower!" he stammered.

A wicked grin flew across Andie's face. "Please, let's," she smirked. She threw back the covers and hopped out of bed.

Neither noticed the slender figure in the hall watching with impassive brown eyes. The corridor was empty when they exited the room, flanked at the door by two guards.

* * *

The shower felt pretty good. Trip lounged on her bunk while she dressed in the bathroom. The main door remained open and two MACO's could be seen outside, heavily armed and standing at attention. She appeared wearing jeans and a black tee shirt that read "I'm out of bed and dressed; what more do you want?" in shiny lavender letters. At Trip's curious expression, she shrugged. "I'm not on active duty. I don't see the need for a uniform."

"Not even shoes?" He nodded at her bunny slippers while stifling a giggle.

She frowned at him. "I'm out of bed and dressed. What more do you want?" Echoing the sentiment of her tee shirt, she dared him to continue the fight.

"Right," he grinned, in no mood for an argument. He escorted her down the hallway to the turbo-lift and the MACO's followed silently.

Absently, she rubbed her sternum.

"You okay?" Trip asked casually.

"My chest hurts," she grumbled softly.

"That's probably from the phaser fire," he commented. "We couldn't get close to you with a hypo spray, so Malcolm had to shoot you once or twice." _More like half a dozen times, _he thought_, but she didn't need to know that._

"I'm surprised my most constant guard isn't around," she snitted. "Was Reed suddenly overcome with the urge to leave me alone for five minutes?"

Trip frowned slightly. "Lieutenant Reed is in the Armory. He's been off regular duty for a few days and he's checkin' to make sure everything still works the way it should."

"I'm surprised he didn't insist that I be escorted around in chains," she grumbled, turning another corner.

Just outside the new greenhouse, Trip grabbed her arm. "Now wait just a minute!" Without warning she reversed his grip and threw him up against a wall. Her immediate instinct was to tear his arm right out of his socket. There was a tense moment between them, when they both thought she might actually do it. Both MACO's drew their weapons and prepared to bring her down.

Andie took a deep breath and pictured the rage in her mind like a violent storm. She visualized it settling slowly down and when she looked at Trip again, the predatory gleam was gone from her eye, leaving them both a bit shaken. She let go of him.

Trip slowly released her arm and took a step back. The marines lowered their weapons. "You should cut Malcolm a little slack," Trip continued cautiously. "He's the reason you're still with us."

"It's entirely possible that he'll have to live with that mistake for a while," she whispered, turning without further ado to engross herself in preparing the barren room to hold fragile life.

* * *

"I'm telling you, she can do that thing you were trying so hard to get me to understand in the Expanse!" Trip was pestering T'Pol as she bustled around the command center, analyzing data from the snow bears.

"If she is so accomplished in her mental control, then there is no need for me to interfere," T'Pol stated clearly. She turned to take note of a different panel of information.

Trip felt like he was chasing her around the room as he switched positions to look her in the eye. "You gave me a little help when I needed it, and Andie could use your guidance now too!" He bestowed his most winning smile. "Won't you do it for an old friend?"

"Meditation is a private custom," T'Pol replied. "I hope you're not suggesting that I take part in this ritual with all your ...friends?"

There was an uneasy tone in her voice that Trip couldn't decipher. "I'm...just asking you to help someone who needs it," he stammered. "I think she could use to company." He thought of Andie's last words to him, and worried over her state of mind.

She might gain knowledge of this young woman that could be useful to the captain. The Vulcan had a disquieting thought that this reason was not the true reason, but she ignored it with an iron will of her own. "I will offer my guidance," T'Pol finally broke down. "She is free to refuse it," she cautioned as Trip's face flooded with relief.

"Thank you." His gratitude was deeply felt. Lingering just to prolong the moments he could spend with her, he awkwardly tried to begin another topic. "How're things coming with that religious text?"

"The study of the Kir-shara may be a lifelong endeavor," she replied. "I have only begun my studies."

"You've got a long time to read it," he forced a smile. She responded with barely a nod. Despite their closeness just a couple of months ago, T'Pol didn't seem to want to carry on their friendship now that she was married.

That he could be tossed aside with so little thought stung him deeply. He made his excuses, thanked her again and left.

* * *

Puttering in the greenhouse, Andie stopped when she heard voices in the corridor outside. Washing her hands in the single sink left in the room, she waited for the steward to enter with her tray. To her surprise, it was Ensign Henry Bowman who appeared, carrying a heavy tray.

"Ensign?"

"I told the steward I was coming to see you, and asked if I could bring your lunch," he stammered uncertainly. Setting down the tray, he looked around the room, which was still rather barren. Large silver potting trays lined the tables that surrounded the walls of what used to be two separate rooms but were now opened into one large room.

"My eye hurts. Could you take a look?" He didn't seem overly concerned with his vision though. Instead, he looked around at the piles of padds, and canisters of seedlings that covered the primary work table with great interest. "Is that a Kreetassin rosebush?"

Andie consulted her padd after peering at him cautiously. "Yes, it is." She edged further away from the young man, keeping as much distance as she could between herself and the cherub-cheeked young man. "Henry, I'm on medical leave. I can't treat you or even examine you to proffer a diagnosis." She bumped her hip as she clumsily turned another corner. "I'm sorry. You'll have to go see Phlox."

There was a part of her that worried her newly acquired animal instinct would do him harm, but the relentless way he pursued her around the room was bringing out another kind of worry. He showed remarkable persistence in stalking her around the main table and asking questions about many of the things he saw there.

"Kreetassin roses are very sensitive," Henry stated solidly. "They might not even survive the transplant process." Henry Bowman was not known for stating things solidly. His usual conversation contained stammers and stutters, but in this room he suddenly had focus and perception. His actions in the greenhouse suddenly made sense.

"You're a botanist?" Understanding dawned.

Henry blushed. "I'm only an amateur. My father thought Engineering would be more impressive on my resume." Breaking off in sudden embarrassment, Henry started edging toward the door himself.

Sergeant Chang opened the door. "Is everything all right, ma'am?" he asked carefully, looking at the doctor.

"Yes," she tried to breathe normally. "Would you please escort Ensign Bowman to Sickbay and have Liz flush out his eye?"

Henry started to stammer and Andie added, "Or call Ian Black. He has a very gentle touch." She suspected that Bowman might have a crush on Liz and there was no need to antagonize him.

Chang called the other MACO, Parsons, to escort the Ensign, and when they were gone, he looked carefully at the doctor. "You okay? Really?"

She nodded and forced a laugh. "What do you know about Ensign Bowman?" she covered her nerves by asking questions. It was an old habit.

"He's a competent crewman when he focuses. Most of the crew don't like working with him, but they treat him well enough to his face. His father is Admiral Bowman." Although Chang did not gossip as a rule, he thought that Andie might exercise greater compassion as a medical professional.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "That might explain a lot," she added thoughtfully, having met the indefatigable Bowman several years ago. She eyed Chang. "Do you spend a great deal of time with Henry?" Her eyes tried to hard to look innocent.

He knew this was her way of asking how he knew anything about either Bowman. "I memorized the personnel files before coming aboard," he offered, watching her carefully. His hands never strayed from the pulse rifle that rested with deceptive ease in his arms. "I read yours, too."

"What does my file tell you?" she grinned, suddenly feeling a bit cheeky for the first time in days.

"Your file says very little, officially." The smile dropped from her face as she took in the meaning of his words. "However I have access to information not contained in official records."

Andie froze. "Do you now?" Her eyes glittered and her body tensed, waiting for the attack.

"Information the captain might enjoy," Chang went on. "If he ever bothered to ask me."

"Do you expect him to ask?" she challenged.

"No, I'm just the muscle," Chang mused. He nodded to her tray. "Your lunch is getting cold, ma'am. If there's nothing else?" Snapping to attention, he waited for her curt order to dismiss before taking up his station just outside her door.

Andie studied the door carefully, as though she could still see the solemn man behind it. Daniel Chang was quiet and immersed in his duties, but it was easy to see he wasn't stupid. He may in fact be quite dangerous. Another wolf in sheep's clothing, she mused.

Ignoring her lunch, she went back to cranking bolts on the incubators.

* * *

Despite the loud music that covered his quiet entrance, she knew he was there. "Come to shoot me again, Lieutenant?" Flicking a switch, the sound level dropped.

Inwardly he winced at the memory.

"Probably not," he disagreed. "I came to return this." He dropped the medallion in front of her. "You dropped it on the roof."

"Thank you," she murmured, clearly moved. Her fingers wrapped around it reflexively.

"Is it valuable?" He'd run a scan on it when they returned, so he knew it wasn't a rare metal, just a disc on a leather thong, but the attachment that Andie clearly had for it made him curious.

"Only to me," she answered. She slipped it around her neck. "It's sentimental."

He noted the dark circles under her eyes. "I was surprised to find you here at this hour. You're supposed to be taking it easy. You should rest."

"There will be plenty of time for sleep after I'm dead," she told him, trying too hard to inject her tone with light-hearted humor.

"That may come sooner than you think if I tell Phlox you're not tending to your recuperation. You'll have to deal with him on your own then." Malcolm was happy to play along with her.

She clucked her tongue. "So when the big guns don't work for you, you run straight for the nearest muscle?"

"Whatever gets the best results," he replied. He watched her work for a moment.

"Spit it out, Reed. I can hear the gears in your brain clanking from here."

As though waiting for an invitation, he jumped right in. "We exist on the front lines."

"I didn't realize we were at war."

"Every member of this crew must be ready and able to defend themselves."

"I can take care of myself."

One dark eyebrow arched. "Clearly," he mocked. "To that end, I'd like to see you re-certified to carry and fire a phase pistol."

"I don't like guns." Her eyes were as dark as her voice.

"Nevertheless, I'm sure the captain will agree with me."

Andie put down the tool she fiddled with and faced Reed. "Most people feel better when I'm armed only with my wits," she grinned coolly.

"Unarmed and unaware?" he countered with a more natural grin. He won a dirty look for his efforts. "I'd also like to remind you that we rely on each other every day of our lives and withholding information could get us all killed."

She started to protest but he cut her off. "You did not disclose your relationship with either Richards or Darryl. You stole information on the research which you read in private. You attacked Darryl without warning. Any of our lives might have been lost when you held back this information. With the right knowledge, you may have been spared a painful recovery and we might have been killed."

"The key to killing were-wolves is silver bullets," she told him dourly. "Must have forgot to tell you I left those in my other pants." Shaking off her doldrums, she brightened. "Want to see something cool?" She didn't wait for a response but stepped to the door and told the MACO's outside that she was conducting another test. Inside she flipped a switch.

The atmosphere recirculators on the far side of the room went off-line and a warning beep sounded inside the room. Red lights flashed and Reed watched the clamshell incubator she had been working on register the drop in oxygen and slam a lid shut over the dirt she'd deposited inside. Underneath the table a small generator began to hum, keeping the heat lamps and irrigation drip working inside in the small container.

She jumped up and down excitedly. Reed inspected the results, tossing an amused look at her spirits. "You're like a small child," he told her. She giggled.

"Can we put some of these in Sickbay?" she begged. "In the event of a ship-wide catastrophe, Phlox would never have time to remove all his critters, but he wouldn't have to worry about them with this!"

He sighed. She handed him a padd with diagnostics for the clamshell screens. "I won't even argue about phase pistol training," she tempted him.

"That wasn't negotiable," he told her.

"Everything's negotiable," she corrected him cynically. "For example, I'm sure you won't insist on pistol training right away." She winced as she rotated her shoulder. "My wounds need to heal."

"Fine," he gritted his teeth, doubting her shoulders hurt nearly as much as she let on. "I don't think we should put it off more than a week though." He prepared to leave. "I'll see you later."

"Wish I could tell you I was looking forward to it," she muttered in an empty room. "No, really. Wish I could."

* * *

As it turns out, she was scheduled for several disturbing encounters with personnel that day.

"I was under the impression that Vulcans preferred to keep these rituals private?" Her green glare cut through T'Pol like a scalpel.

"I found it useful on occasions in the past to share my knowledge with members of the crew."

Pushing aside the enormous number of questions that statement brought to mind, all of which were certain to unsettle the quiet female, Andie tried to change the subject by giving in to T'Pol's offer. "I'm afraid I don't have a white room."

"Excuse me?" Clearly the Vulcan was unsettled.

"I am confined to quarters and to the greenhouse, both of which are cluttered and filled with items that might make focus difficult. I don't have access to a blank room," she clarified, mystified over the science officer's reaction.

T'Pol resumed her neutral expression. "You are familiar with the Vulcan practice of meditation?"

"Your species have co-existed with mine for a number of years. I would be remiss if I didn't learn what I could about the people and their interests."

"Perhaps we should begin right away," T'Pol gestured to the human, ignoring the remark about the white room.

Andie offered a clean towel for T'Pol to kneel on and assumed an identical posture without waiting for instructions.

T'Pol led them though a series of basic steps to control the respiratory rate, steps to clear the mind, and bring about soothing images to control the passions. When T'Pol meditated alone, she always chose a white space, devoid of all distractions, as she had been taught when she was young. Bonded as they were, she shared in Doctor Brainerd's quiet space. Aquamarine water rolled in white capped waves across fine white sand beaches. The only sound was the steady thunder of the tide. It had an untamed feel without becoming disorderly. T'Pol was surprised.

Slowly she brought them both out of their meditative states. "That was productive," the Vulcan murmured. "I'd like to continue these exercises if you would agree?"

Andie tilted her head to one side and studied T'Pol carefully. "I'd like that," she agreed. Maybe this was the start of a friendship, she thought.

* * *

"What's this?" Trip demanded, bursting through the door and waving a padd around, tossing it onto the table where Andie worked. Poking at it gently with a grime covered pinky, she skimmed the data.

"It's a request for a temporary reassignment."

"You requested Henry Bowman," Trip told her in a tone that clearly indicated that she'd used the wrong name.

"Yes, I did." She remained unperturbed.

"You want Ensign Henry Bowman?"

"Yes."

"Seriously? Henry Bowman?"

Sighing in frustration, Andie mentally counted to ten before asking out loud, "How come everyone refers to him so formally? Why don't they ever call him 'Hank?'"

Trip exhaled forcefully. "I've fielded tons of requests to remove Bowman, but I've never received a request for his work before!"

"Will you approve the transfer?" She persisted.

Trip shrugged. "It's your call. What do I care if you lose your sanity now you've just got it back." He signed off and handed her the pad. "Good luck."

"What the hell is this?" The doors flew open to admit Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol.

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it!" Andie protested. "I've been in here all day!"

"You requested Bowman?"

Andie rolled her eyes. "Yes, for a temporary assignment and Commander Tucker has approved the move."

"Ensign Bowman stops by every afternoon and has made several valuable contributions to the Greenhouse," T'Pol interjected.

"You knew about this?" Archer whirled around.

"Of course," she replied with a hint of what Andie took as humor in her eyes. "They've made considerable progress."

"The transfer has already been approved. You're not going to veto that decision, are you?"

Archer was irked to learn that Andie could apply a very Vulcan tone to her comments when she wanted to. "No, that's fine," he snapped. He tossed another pad her way. "What's this?"

She read the pertinent data. "It's a request to tie in security measures in this room. These plants will play a very big part of an upcoming experiment and there are several protocols that I'd like to integrate into the ship's systems." She eyed Archer spitefully. "Just like it says there, in plain English."

"Are these really necessary?" he snapped.

"Of course, I believe they are," she demurred. "That's why I requested a consult with Engineering and Tactical."

As if on cue, Reed appeared.

"Have you seen this?" Archer waved the memo in front of Reed's face.

"Yes, sir. I've come to speak with Doctor Brainerd about it."

The wind seemed to have left Archer's sails. How he had become the last to know anything on board his own ship? After shaking his head to clear it, he turned back to Andie.

"If you've got a minute, Doctor, there are some things I need to discuss with you." He tried to adopt a more businesslike tone to promote the seriousness of the matter at hand.

She wondered if he was going to choke on his rage. "I'm free for a while," she shrugged.

At a wordless signal, Trip and Reed stepped outside the door. Archer and T'Pol were left alone with the emotionally fragile female. "We received a communication from Starfleet Command. It was the decision of the counsel to count the doctors remaining at the Proteus Research Facility as lost in action."

Andie didn't flinch.

T'Pol added quietly. "Apparently, the disappearances of the scientists from the station had been a topic of concern for some time and nearly a dozen of them chose to leave the station with the last freighter when they dropped off supplies, nearly a month ago." There was still no reaction from the young woman. "A subspace interference kept them from contacting Starfleet until recently."

It was more likely they were worried about repercussions from Starfleet, Andie thought, since they left without permission.

"Only eight scientists were lost altogether," Archer continued. "Their wills were executed a few days ago." He tried for a fatherly tone and dropped a hand on Andie's shoulder. "Doctor Godfreid mentioned you in his will. Those things will be stored at Starfleet until you get back to Earth to lay claim to them." He offered her a padd with the pertinent passages displayed.

A sad smile hovered around her lips as she read about her inheritance. The contents of his humidor and the liquors in his cellar were all hers, as were all his personal scientific journals and any of his effects she might have in her possession at the time of his death. Her head jerked up to meet Archer's eyes.

"The cats are your responsibility now," he told her solemnly. "Keep them out of my hair." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "And there's no smoking on board this ship."

"Does that include the smoke that spews out of your ears everytime you talk to me?" she sassed him as he turned to go out the door. Andie nodded at T'Pol who remained behind.

"Doctor Phlox will be returning you to active status this evening, pending an evaluation. You will resume your duties tomorrow morning." T'Pol inclined her head and left Andie alone.


	12. Chapter 12

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

The NX-01 was the finest ship that Earth had constructed, but sometimes she was still too small to shelter every member of her crew. All the things that happened to one of them, in one way or another, touched the lives of everyone else.

* * *

Ensign Ian Black, Sickbay's first nurse, asked for the time off when Doctor Brainerd returned for her final physical. This was his first tour of duty, and although he may have heard stories about life in space, he'd really never believed that one of their own could turn into something unrecognizable. Andie Brainerd, who laughed all the time, and teased him mercilessly, had jumped off her bio-bed and tried to strangle him. He knew her condition had been volatile but he never expected her to turn against one of her own. He spent the evening in his quarters wondering what he had been thinking, signing up with Starfleet to live every day in the midst of chaos he couldn't even predict. He lay on his bunk and listened to his roommate brushing his teeth that evening, wondering how he was going to make it through a day in Sickbay with his attacker working right by his side. His stomach clenched and nerves kept him tossing and turning through most of the night.

* * *

Liz Cutler watched Ian retreat from the lab with compassion. She knew firsthand that life in space was extraordinary. Almost four years ago, she'd been getting to know Novakovich with the intention of dating him, until a freak storm early in their exploration had forced the use of the transporter. The transporter, compounded by the high winds, had brought Novakovich back wrong. He'd spent a great deal of time in Sickbay, and although Phlox tried every measure at his disposal, the crewman would carry the scars of his near death as a visible mark for the rest of his days.

The shock of being pulled apart and reassembled at the moment of his greatest fear, coupled with his disfigurement had transformed Novakovich into a shadow of his former self. There was no way to get a transfer off the ship that had become his nightmare, and he had retreated into his own mind. He performed his duties, but stopped laughing or fraternizing with crewmates. He refused to attend movie night. He never requested another trip off the ship, volunteering to remain on board even when they reached the pleasure planet of Risa. When the Xindi attacked, Novakovich was one of a handful that refused to enter the Expanse to save Earth. Knowing that Ian was new to space travel, Liz prayed that he would not get lost the way that Novakovich did. Her inability to reach him in his misery was a memory that never diminished.

* * *

Ensign Travis Mayweather passed by Sickbay for treatment just as Andie was leaving for the evening. Two years ago, he'd been kidnapped against his will by a sentient computer in exchange for repairs to the ship. His body was used as a battery to refuel the station without his consent. A duplicate body had been left aboard the ship and his friends and crewmates had mourned his loss of life. Although he had been rescued, there were several people who had looked sideways at him for several months after that, as though he might be another replica of himself rather than the real Travis Mayweather. Andie had been taken over by a virus that transformed her DNA. She had been transformed into something else, more animal than human. Coming back from that would be hard work, and she looked too delicate to hold that kind of strength. Travis worried about her even as he took his frustration out on a punching bag in the gym. In one moment, all those nightmares he had about being dead years ago had returned in a flash to haunt him again. Old ghosts never sleep, he thought, attacking the bag with renewed vigor, bloodying the knuckles.

* * *

Commander Tucker was also in the gym, just finishing a workout on the stationary cycle. He waved casually at Travis and headed out the door. He dreaded going back to his quarters to sit in his room and stare at the picture he kept in a drawer of his family. He stared for too many hours at the sister he'd lost in the past year and he didn't want to start that again. It wasn't good for his mind or his command style. It made him edgy and snippy. Watching Andie lie so still in a bio-bed, her lank hair tossed across her pillow like tarnished gold reminded him too deeply of Elizabeth. He wondered, not for the first time, what it must have been like for her. The officials in charge told him that she hadn't felt a thing, that she hadn't seen it coming, but Trip had his doubts. Lizzie was an uncommonly smart girl. Just like Andie. He was sure that they had both seen the end coming at them, but had been helpless to get out of the way. He was struck once again by a wave of anger at two such young lives being taken away without thought for those they left behind. Trip shook his head. Andie was alive, he reminded himself. She was getting better and he didn't have to worry about her anymore. She was going to be okay. There was a part of him that wished he could reconcile that thought with the rest of his mind. He wished there was a way to hear the words 'it's going to be okay' without thinking that it was a lie. Nothing would ever be okay in the world again. Shaking his head, he realized he'd actually come straight to the Mess Hall in his sweaty gear and had made his way through most of a bowl of ice cream. Dumping the dirty bowl in the bin for washing, he made his way back to his quarters for a shower.

* * *

Hoshi Sato watched him go. She'd been tucked into the far corner of the room, cradling a cooling cup of tea in her hand, enjoying the silence of the evening. He looked tired and pained when he came in and hadn't even acknowledged her quiet good evenings. She'd left him alone. He looked like hell. Hoshi didn't really want company. She'd spent too much time today worrying about Doctor Andie. It was only a few months ago really that she'd been taken right off of this ship in a time of war and forced to work with the enemy for the destruction of Earth. They'd implanted bugs in her head, causing pain and agony to her. Those bugs had obliterated that part of her mind that discerned between what she wanted and doing what she was told. She'd nearly decrypted the firing solution to the Xindi weapon at their urging. She shuddered. She hated to be helpless like that. It was humiliating to exist at the whim of another. That sick feeling of helplessness had driven her to challenge more of the orders she was given. Archer always gave her a raised eyebrow when she got bossy, but she couldn't allow her own judgment to be overrun again. Andie might be feeling the same thing in the morning, she thought. It might be time for a little girl's night when Andie was feeling more up to speed. She emptied her nearly full mug of tea in the bin and left the room.

* * *

On her way to her cabin, she nodded at T'Pol who made her way through the ship. They exchanged brief pleasantries without stopping and T'Pol continued to the turbo lift. Inside her quarters, she lit a candle as she knelt on the ground and made preparations to meditate. Her evening ritual kept her grounded and steady. She looked forward to this time of emptying her thoughts in preparation for the sleep cycle. A few minutes later her eyes popped open. Drifting into a state of unconsciousness was more difficult this evening. Her thoughts refused to obey her calming efforts and continued to drift toward their most recent crewmember.

Doctor Brainerd was just as emotionally expressive as any member on this ship; in fact, she might even give Captain Archer a reputation for acting calmly by comparison. Yet she took the time to grant T'Pol every Vulcan courtesy she could conjure. She greeted T'Pol in her native language, she assumed a calm tone whenever she spoke to the Vulcan and she acknowledged some of T'Pol's cultural idiosyncrasies without batting an eye, all without ever letting on how she understood so thoroughly the demands of Vulcan society. The secrecy of the doctor's mind gave the commander pause. It was almost certain that Andrea Brainerd was hiding something, but there was no concrete proof to corroborate it. Her file was short but in order and sent along by a high ranking admiral at Starfleet Command. A stray thought drifted into her mind that T'Pol might like the human better if she spent less time with Commander Tucker. Irritated at her lack of control, T'Pol took a deep breath and tried again to meditate, to clear her mind. That stray thought wouldn't leave. She saw Trip kissing that woman in Sickbay. To be precise, she saw Doctor Brainerd kissing Commander Tucker. It had been brief, but it implied a level of intimacy between them that was having a disruptive influence on T'Pol's state of mind.

If she was going to meditate then she would have to be honest with herself. She still thought of Trip as more than a friend. He had stood by her through the most troublesome aspects of her service on Enterprise. He'd counseled her with some success when she thought to leave the ship to marry Koss. With his support, she had put off her duty to honor the marital contract and had remained aboard Enterprise. It was a decision she had never regretted. Since she was being so honest, she knew that her decision to defy the Vulcan High Command and enter the Expanse had something to do with Commander Tucker as well. There had been many good reasons to go, she reassured herself. If the Xindi had been successful in their eradication of Earth, then it was not unreasonable that the Xindi would seek to attack the alliances that Earth held as well. The Vulcans, with their extended stay on Earth, would have been under attack just as the small blue planet had been. The Vulcans should have been sent in to assist. Without a science officer, Archer would have been short-handed. He would have suffered without her hand to guide him, as Vulcan's had guided humans for nearly a hundred years now. In addition to the good, solid reasons she could list in her mind, she must also account for the devastation on the face of the man who had offered such companionship and counsel to her in the past. The loss of his sister had been extremely emotional and she felt that she should be here to offer him the same counsel that he had so often extended to her. That courtesy had evolved into something else.

T'Pol shook her head and concentrated more intently on clearing her mind. The peace she sought refused to come. She had given up her commission to follow the humans into the Expanse and the uncertainty had preyed heavily on her mind, leading to sleepless nights. Exhaustion had prompted Phlox to send Tucker to her and together they found more than a comforting ear. Once the mission in the Expanse was over, T'Pol had been unsure if she should continue their relationship. In her mother's house on Vulcan, she had submitted to her maternal authority and finally honored her duty to marry another. She could not bring herself to mate with Koss, and so had returned to duty, only to find her duty bringing her back to Vulcan, to watch her mother deny all reason and die for her efforts.

T'Pol found herself sighing heavily. These events preyed on her mind. She chose to push Trip away, finding too many opportunities to follow her mother's example and forsake her duties. In spite of her well-chosen decision, she also found too many reasons to dislike the exuberant, affectionate doctor. Rising to her feet she stretched her arms over her head as she'd witnessed many crewmembers do when their task was burdensome. She tilted to one side and then the other before resuming her position in front of the candle. Closing her eyes she focused all her energies to brushing aside the thoughts and worries of the day and clearing her mind for rest.

* * *

Just down the corridor, Archer could smell the familiar scent of candle wax and knew that T'Pol was meditating peacefully in front of her candle. He envied her that protection, the calm that awaited her at the end of the day. He hadn't yet slid between the sheets of his bed, knowing that rest was futile. Porthos lay on his oversized pillow, raising his chin from his paws long enough to eye his master with earnest brown eyes in case Archer had some treat hidden away in his pockets. As the hour grew late, the pooch decided that the man didn't have anything good to offer and let himself drift of to sleep. Archer envied his dog. He stood idly at his bedroom window, watching the stars drift endlessly by, wishing that this life of exploration brought him the same joy it had in those first few years.

More and more often it seemed as though their travels in space only led to more grief. A crewman brought down by pollen, those Tandaran prisoners that wandered the galaxy in search of a home, the war that was escalated on account of his mission with Reed where they'd been captured and labeled as spies. There were enemies around every corner. He'd offered every courtesy and assistance to the Klingons, by returning Klang to his home world and averting a war, by rescuing a ship of unconscious warriors being crushed by the gravity and yet they only seemed to wish him ill. The Andorians who despised humans simply for their contact with Vulcans, seemed to be coming around when they showed up in the expanse, only to stab Archer in the back by trying to steal the Xindi weapon. And those didn't even take into account the true scope of the horrors of the Xindi Conflict.

He gave the order to destroy a ship full of Vulcan zombies. He created a clone only to kill him. He gave the order to destroy an outpost on the side of the Xindi moon to save his own skin. He attacked those poor scientists, stranding them in dangerous space just so he could make a meeting on time. And he asked himself if it was worth it. Starfleet Command had grilled him on his decisions thoroughly. The Vulcans thought his actions were deplorable and wanted to keep him grounded. Phlox had been attacked in a bar by an angry man. Trip had lost his sister and nearly lost his life in the expanse. All of this accomplished so that he could turn around after arriving home to chase after a narcissistic scientist bent on dominating the world with genetically enhanced soldiers and watch as the Vulcan government imploded around its own dogma.

It didn't seem right that bad things should happen to good people. Archer sipped his scotch and noted that he was mentally tallying Andie in his list of good people. She just wanted to check on her friend and she'd nearly been turned into an animal. She was young and exuberant, but then wasn't he when he first started traveling in space? Maybe Archer should be more forgiving of her flaws.

Even thinking that he should forgive her made him squirm. He didn't want to think about being nicer to Andie Brainerd. She had known his father. She would know that Henry Archer would be so disappointed in the monster his son had become. A tiny voice whispered that she might also know what it was like to fill the shoes of a man that cast a bigger shadow than hers. They might have that in common. Acknowledging his mistakes, admitting his failure was a difficult task for Jonathan Archer. It would be easier to hate her than to try and understand her. Understanding might mean taking a closer look in his own mirror and he'd rather not think about the horror he'd become.

He sipped his Scotch again, watching the stars fly past his window. The hour grew later and he stayed there in the dark alone.

* * *

As soon as Andie was released from Sickbay the first thing she did was change clothes and head to the gym for a long run on the treadmill. She waved at Travis Mayweather as he pulled the tape from his hands and swigged water from a bottle after his boxing match, and he left for the showers. She put the plugs in her ears and hooked her music player to her waistband, but she didn't actually turn on any music. She just didn't want to be disturbed. People had been popping into the greenhouse to see her more and more often and while the company was appreciated, she really just wanted to be alone. It had taken longer than anticipated to set up the clamshells, mostly due to the fact that every time she got frustrated she threw something across the room with a roar. Phlox assured her that her adrenaline levels were at a minimal level so she shouldn't be expecting too many tantrums like that in the future. Unless, he grinned, she had been prone to them before. She had grinned at that; she really liked the Denobulan doctor. Just as suddenly, she sobered.

The consequences of her information concealment preyed on her mind. She was going to have to trust the crew and they were going to have to trust her. Godfried had once trusted her and look where it got him; locked on a world with his insane partner. She was scheduled to spend a lot of time aboard this boat and trust wasn't something she could do without. It was difficult to know who she could trust if it came down to it. Most of the crew didn't know, but she had access to all of their records, not just medical reports and she knew almost as much about their previous missions as if she'd actually been there. Frankly, she didn't think most of them would accept that invasion of privacy lying down. Reed in particular, she thought.

He was reputed to be the coolest head under pressure. His reputation at Starfleet as the Ice Man was something that the younger generation revered, but Andie hadn't seen anything to indicate why this was the case. He always seemed to be yelling at her or stumbling around his words. She'd read a paper he'd submitted to Starfleet about an electro-magnetic shield generator and found him to be succinct while conveying a great deal of information. Her father would hate him, she thought with a grim grimace. Andre Brainerd had a reputation for greatness, but his attitude toward people left something to be desired. He would claim Reed to be soulless in his pursuit of knowledge.

Shutting down the machine she slowed her workout to a walk. She was going to have to learn to get along with Malcolm Reed if she expected to have any peace aboard this ship. Picking up her own towel, she walked back to her cabin, unaware of the occasional eyes that she passed that followed her progress down the corridor with trepidation.

Inside, she found two things of importance. One, two cats reclined around the room as though they belonged there. Leon perched on the windowsill and watched the stars go by, casting a disinterested look over his shoulder when she entered, and Jojo snuggled happily in the center of her pillows. When she noted her mistress, she stood and yawned before parading around in a circle on the bunk until Andie stroked her soft head. "I guess you guys are stuck with me now," she spoke softly. "Let's hope you fare better than most of my former roommates."

The second item was a familiar duffel bag resting on the desk. Pulling it open, she retrieved the contents carefully. Godfried's cigar box was slipped into the bottom of her storage locker after a long whiff of the familiar scent inside. Two bottles of finely aged Scotch and one of whiskey were stored alongside the cigars. She also took care to remove other elements from her survival bag, the nutrition bars, the water bags, the first aid kit, the dangerous looking knife. She never could resist twisting the handle that triggered the dual blades to jump out from the sides of the hollow knife creating a three bladed cutting surface. Fingering the blades delicately, she set the _d'ktahg _down on her desk, intending to oil it carefully before stowing it her lockbox.

At the bottom of the bag were several tomes. A woodsy scent filled the room. Unlike most paper available on Earth, these were made from real trees to form a thick parchment paper, bound in leather and held together when the bindings failed with metal spirals. Godfried's journals were filled with his tiny scratches made with old fashioned lead pencils. She smiled as she remembered how fervently he insisted that lead never ran dry and never faded from memory. Four of the journals were filled with scientific data, formulas and random observations, while the final two remained completely untouched.

Someone had returned her things. There was a flicker of joy to have them back with her, but the shadow of gloom hung over her head. As paltry as these things were they were nothing but memories to carry with her, of good men gone bad and those that suffered for it. Sighing heavily she showered and climbed into bed. Both cats joined her, one tucked against her side in the curve of her elbow and the other tangled across her ankles with one golden eye on the door. She slept fitfully.

* * *

Malcolm Reed couldn't sleep at all and was sitting in his quarters, keeping one eye absently on the door while he sorted through some materials that had recently come through on an information drop. Hoshi had forwarded the material to him and he wasted no time in securing it with a password on his personal computer terminal.

He hated incomplete information. The discrepancies and holes in a report always seemed to contain some crucial bit that somebody else decided wasn't really important to know, but in fact, became the determination for success or failure. Doctor Brainerd's file was incomplete. There was only the most basic material. A pass/fail for her elementary education at a private institution in Switzerland, the courses she'd taken in college and medical school, all too often also listed as pass/fail in lieu of an actual grade. Most of her professors wrote progress reports in the most boring fashion. "_Andrea Brainerd shows aptitude for the material and it is expected that she will do very well at the next level, if she can keep her focus." _They all seemed to say the same thing and Malcolm wondered if any of these teachers actually knew her at all.

It could be the late hour that prompted his head to snap up. "What if her teachers had no idea who she was?" he wondered out loud. His jaw snapped shut. It was the sort of thing that used to get him in trouble as a child, and he thought he'd gotten rid of the bad habit of talking to himself long ago. The habit only reared his head when he was under extreme pressure, and Andie certainly set his teeth on edge.

"If she's not who she says she is, then who is she?" he wondered out loud, mentally cursing his weakness. "And why would she be hand selected by admirals in Starfleet Command?" Her place of birth was listed as Santa Fe, New Mexico. Malcolm wondered why she didn't seem to speak with the same sort of southern accent as Commander Tucker. They came from different regions, but surely she should have some inflection, shouldn't she?

One of the perks of being stationed on the best star ship in the fleet and having a reputation as a saver of humanity was knowing who to contact to discover information that he didn't have access to himself. He sent off a brief message to an old colleague and leaned back in his chair to ponder the world around him.

The knife in her survival kit had been a surprise. Trip had told him of her threat to cut his clothes off when trapped in the asteroid field, but neither man had actually thought that she might have something so dangerous in her possession. He ignored the small box in his own locker that contained a non-regulation weapon, hidden there after having once been captured and locked away while Suliban roamed the ship. While pondering whether or not to remove the weapon from her, he wondered if it was wise to tip his hand. If she felt safe and secure on the ship, she might grow careless and he could catch her in a much more flagrant disregard for procedure, something that might get her sent back home.

Standing, he had to ask himself what caused this dislike of a woman he barely knew. She may be loud and crude, but was that any reason to carry on the way he had? Throwing his uniform in the laundry he stepped under a hot shower and scrubbed the troubles of the world away. Trip told him at dinner than she'd actually requested Henry Bowman to help set up her plants. Nobody liked Bowman, but Andie, it would seem. Trip snickered that it seemed the doctor had a way wit difficult people. His statement was followed with a pointed look at the end, which Malcolm chose to ignore. He wasn't difficult and could hardly be placed in the same class as Bowman, who most of the crew went out of their way to avoid. Malcolm felt secure that he was much more pleasant than Bowman.

Reed himself had spent some time with her, discussing the greenhouse security, as though a handful of plants were actually as important as security on the rest of the ship. They'd also spent three quarters of an hour arguing about the creatures in Phlox's lab, which Reed insisted were not important enough to warrant their own security measures, and Andie pointed out with unnerving accuracy the times in the past when Reed had been assisted by Phlox's fauna.

Perhaps that what set him on edge the most; her ability to recall at a second's notice the complete medical history of everyone on board, but her complete lack of understanding of basic security protocols. He turned off the water and after drying off, slipped into a pair of loose cotton pants and a tee shirt for sleeping. After he dragged her to a couple of Lieutenant Reed's patented seminars on Keeping the Ship and Crew Safe from Forces Both Foreign and Domestic he thought she'd finally be able to quote chapter and verse on those things as well.

Feeling slightly more satisfied with his day, he fell asleep and had terrible dreams about drowning and being attacked by fish with cold yellow eyes and sharp teeth. Over and over he shot at them with a pistol while struggling to breathe.

* * *

It seemed nobody on board Enterprise would sleep well that night.

Ian Black dreamed of being attacked by his pretty boss and transforming into a slavering beast that had no control.

Liz Cutler was haunted by nocturnal images of a Sickbay filled with faces she knew, not all of whom could be saved.

Travis Mayweather tossed and turned as pictures flashed in his head of robots that hooked him into machines and turned him into a robot too.

Trip fell asleep to dream of fire. First the fire chased him through the streets as he held tightly to the hand of his sister, then the landscape changed and he sat on the edge of a volcanic surface watching fire erupt in a magnificent landscape. Despite the violence of the imagery, the volcanoes were somewhat soothing in their natural actions.

Hoshi dreamt of tropical jungles filled with bugs that crawled over her flesh.

T'Pol rested quietly on her bunk. Only in the deepest hours of the morning, when her sub-conscious was at its most vulnerable, did she allow herself a small measure of humanity's contact with Morpheus's world. She pictured in her mind the violence of the Fire Plains on Vulcan. She rested on the rocky plains, with a faceless companion at her side.

Archer, finally throwing himself into bed, couldn't shake the image of a disapproving father shaking his finger at his devoted son. Porthos dreamed of a world where his master never kept cheese in his pockets. They tossed together on a wide bunk.

In much the same fashion as her captain, Andie couldn't let go of the images that had troubled her mind for several days. Hunting through the forest, being hunted, running through the cold snow, being attacked without warning. Even in her sleep she was relieved when the nightmares that visited her every night of her life didn't wake her with a scream.

Leon dreamt of red lights and loud sirens, of racing on soft paws through a noisy world into a small compartment that took him away from his ship forever. Jojo's whiskers trembled as she envisioned cold and unable to keep warm. In the dim cabin, she snuggled closer to her new mistress.

Reed drowned in a pool of piranhas until one small hand reached under to pull him up. He could see the old scar on the shoulder that rescued him, the scar that matched the necklace. Despite his fear of drowning, he fought against his rescuer, not wishing to go with her.

* * *

On C Deck with the rest of the regular crewmembers, Crewman Cooper tossed and turned on his bunk, dreaming of his arch-nemesis, Crewman Nichols being devoured by alien wolves.

On the far side of C Deck, Crewman Nichols was having the exact same dream about Crewman Cooper.


	13. Chapter 13

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

Doctor Andie rose earlier than usual, hoping to tend to her business before the main body of the ship awoke to stare at her. She dressed with some relief in a pair of light blue scrubs over a kerry green shirt and slid the strap of her portable med-kit over her shoulder. It felt good to be in uniform again. Blinking slowly, she made her way down the corridor, the early hour and restless night making her unaware of her companion.

To her surprise there was a crewperson exiting the lift as she got on board. She smiled and nodded, forgoing the vocal greetings and was surprised at the response. The crew member smiled tightly and a bit suspiciously, but turned around as soon as she got out of the lift and smiled more genuinely at Andie. Andie decided it was too early to determine if any of the crew was acting strangely. She'd hold off on the diagnoses until after she'd had some coffee.

Stepping out of the lift she moved through the corridor to the Mess Hall. She moved immediately to the beverage dispenser on the wall and yanked a mug from the cupboard. She held it directly under the tap and commanded a hot cup of java sunshine be poured. Dark brown liquid with its familiar sight and comforting smell dripped into her container, followed by a steaming lactose product, and she tilted the mug to her lips and swallowed the entire steaming cup in one long drink.

She blinked slowly, then repeated the process.

"Ahem." Through a pre-coffee haze, she heard noises from her right, as though someone was trying to communicate with her. Bleary, red-rimmed eyes swung around to find Sergeant Chang grinning at her. "Are you going to drink the whole pot?" he asked with a smile.

"If you're lucky," she mumbled idly, filling the mug a third time and moving through the buffet line that had appeared behind her as she drank her coffee.

"Not a morning person, huh?" the MACO persisted, adding bacon to his plate.

"Nobody in their right mind is a morning person," she continued to grumble, staring morosely at the buffet. The sous-chef had a special way with pancakes, and this morning there was a veritable smorgasbord to choose from. Blueberry, chocolate chip, apple and buttermilk awaited the hungry crew, none of which looked appetizing to Andie.

There was a shriek and a squeal from the galley followed by a howl that Andie vaguely recognized. One of the galley crew stepped through the swinging door holding an orange bundle by the scruff of his neck.

"I believe this belongs to you, Doctor?" he glared at the surprised woman.

"Leon, you naughty boy!" she scolded, hurrying over to take her cat, and trying to hold the squirming bundle without putting her coffee down. "What are you doing?"

"He was trying to help himself," the crewman scowled. "Chef was making preparations for your breakfast when he stumbled over this guy!"

"My breakfast?" she parroted. Chang was amused to see she wasn't at all concerned that her cat was wandering around the ship.

"Chef thought you might like steak and eggs this morning," the cook announced in a low voice, with a suspicious glance at Chang.

The thought of it made her mouth water. "That would be lovely," she agreed, sending the chef back into the kitchen. She scolded Leon again. "Bad kitty! Leave the chefs alone. They feed us." Big yellow eyes looked unrepentantly at her before licking his chops and chewing on a paw.

She glanced at Chang. "If you will excuse me?" She sidled around him.

He followed her with his plate of bacon and pancakes. "May I?" he gestured to an empty chair.

There wasn't a polite way to tell him to get lost. "As you wish, Sergeant," she granted formally.

"I'm off duty. Please call me Daniel." He smiled a little as he settled in across from her. Leon struggled to get off her lap and then made himself comfortable on the chair next to her, looking for all the world as though he were about to pull out a menu and order. A chef appeared and presented her plate with a flourish. She smiled her thanks. A smaller plate was presented to the little emperor with one steamed prawn and a smidge of pâté. Standing on his hind paws, he ate delicately from his plate rather than continuing to glare at the other male.

"Don't you have two cats?" Daniel asked.

"Jojo doesn't like crowds," Andie answered briefly digging into her steak with relish.

"And this is...?"

"Leon," Andie answered shortly.

"It's a pleasure to know you, Leon," Daniel played along and offered a small corner of bacon for the cat's indulgence. Leon accepted the bite as though accepting tribute from an underling.

"I thought you already knew all about me," Andie pointed out. It was a bad idea to bait the MACO, but she couldn't help it.

Daniel grinned at her direct attitude. "Does that bother you?" he teased.

"I suppose that depends on what you think you know about me."

"It's really more a question of what I don't know."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Daniel chewed and swallowed. "Your background is incomplete," he told her with a disapproving eye. "It encourages questions. I once knew a man who performed a background check on you. He seemed satisfied with his inquiry. That's good enough for me."

She studied him carefully. "You're going to accept my presence here based on the suspicions of someone you know?"

Daniel chewed thoughtfully. "Yes," he agreed, sipping his orange juice. "He was a good man."

"O-kay," Andie answered slowly. She met Daniel's gaze. "I think this is why I never went into the military."

Daniel grinned. "Whoever made your background did a lousy job. It's going to raise some flags. You might want to get them to give it a once-over. Reed will be all over it."

"Thanks," she acknowledged, sipping her coffee. "I'll do that."

Daniel patted the cat on the head as he stood. "It was a pleasure getting to know you, Doctor."

"Yes," she agreed unsmilingly. "I'm a hoot."

Her answer amused Chang, who smiled as he cleared his dishes.

The room was filling up with crewmembers and Andie finished her breakfast, scooped up her cat and left before the whispers and glances in her direction became too obvious.

* * *

After securing the overactive cat in her quarters and offering Jojo a piece of steak for her own breakfast, Andie headed for the greenhouse. Her hand froze in the act of turning on the lights when she realized they were already on.

Phlox stood in the corner, admiring the greenery that was already planted. He noted her presence with a cheery good morning. "The greenhouse is coming along nicely!" he enthused. "This corner reminds me of the place where I first mated with my second wife!"

Andie smiled in return. "If there's something from Denobula that you'd like to see here, we could add it. We'll create your own little Denobulan corner."

"I'd like that," Phlox agreed. "Denobula had many fines gardens and jungles and at times I do miss it."

"It would be my pleasure to bring you a reminder of home," Andie beamed.

A chime beeped quietly in the room. "Doctor Brainerd, your presence is required in Sickbay." T'Pol's even tones cut through the room.

"I'm on my way," Andie replied.

"Is Doctor Phlox with you?" T'Pol asked.

"I'm on my way as well," Phlox agreed. He and Andie shared a curious look before setting out.

There was a small congregation of crew members standing around outside Sickbay, avidly watching the interior of the room. Phlox and Andie pressed into the crowd and watched the Pyrithian bat flutter around the room while an orange blur on the floor leaped at it.

"I secured him in my cabin!" Andie protested at the faces that turned in her direction. "I swear!"

Liz gasped as the bat swooped low, blinded by the bright lights of Sickbay and was nearly pawed out of the air.

"Don't worry! I'll fix this!" Andie hit the button to the double doors and slid inside Sickbay. There were several tense moments as she stalked the cat while attempting to look like she was stalking the bat, but when Leon leaped again, Andie plucked him out of the air by the scruff of his neck. Ignoring his howling, she shoved him into a drawer of linens and closed it with her hip. Phlox joined her as she dimmed the lights and helped her soothe the frightened bat back into her cage.

When the melee was over, the doors opened and the audience entered. "Perhaps you should return Napoleon to his own quarters," Phlox puffed, over the increasing volume of the howls coming from a deep drawer.

"I'll do that right away," Andie promised. She carefully extracted the cat from his prison, and was exasperated that he quieted right away as she cuddled him to her chest. "You are a pain in my ass," she told him severely.

Leon blinked slowly and purred. He'd had a good morning so far.

It was hard to be scared of a tiny little woman who smiled at her ornery cat like that, Ian thought as he pushed the button to open the doors for the doctor. Andie smiled her thanks and left the room. Maybe they could get past this after all.

* * *

She made a brief stop at the Mess Hall before returning to Sickbay. After the excitement of the morning, Andie thought she could use an extra cup of coffee to steady her nerves. Because the hour was late she didn't expect to run into any members of the bridge crew so she was surprised when Hoshi entered shortly after.

"How's your first day back?" Hoshi asked lightly, requesting a cup of tea from the beverage dispenser.

"Hectic," Andie replied with the tired smile that all professionals recognize as 'too much work, not enough help.'

Hoshi grinned and nodded in acknowledgment. She knew that tired smile. She'd worn it herself on occasion. Sobering quickly, she followed Andie to the sliding doors that hid treats for the crew to nibble on all day. Checking her watch, she knew that Chef was just about to deliver a batch of cookies, fresh from the oven.

Andie must have known the same thing because she didn't rush to open the door, but waited a moment until the motion from the galley side indicated that fresh cookies were now available. She and Hoshi chuckled over their similar habits while helping themselves to warm oatmeal cookies.

"I know that working with Ensign Black might be awkward today, but I thought this might help," Hoshi blurted out, handing a padd to the doctor.

Glancing at the padd, Andie raised an eyebrow at the other woman. "What a marvelous coincidence that we were here together to exchange information," she teased gently.

Hoshi wrinkled her nose. "I may have been watching shipboard communications to find you alone," she conceded.

"This may be helpful," Andie agreed, taking a moment to peruse the information. "Thanks."

"If there's anything else I can do," Hoshi offered carefully, leaving the meaning open.

"I appreciate that, thank you, but I'm fine," Andie assured the ensign.

Hoshi smiled a little then dumped her nearly full mug of tea in the bin. "I've got to get back to the bridge. They think I'm in the bathroom." She moved toward the main doors.

"Hoshi?" When the woman paused, Andie went on. "You don't have to make up excuses to talk to me. Just spit it out."

Blushing at being discovered, Hoshi grinned. "I'll remember that in the future." She left at a quick clip.

* * *

Captain Archer stood outside Sickbay watching the staff cavort around when Trip found him later that afternoon.

"Hey, Captain, I was wondering if it'd be possible to put off movie night until tomorrow," Trip called out, startling the older man from his thoughts.

"Sure," Jon agreed affably. "Is there a problem?"

"I wanted Andie to be there and she thought she'd be too tired tonight." He glanced through the clear double doors. "I can see why," he added.

Andie and Liz were trying very hard to teach Phlox to dance. They were demonstrating a very simple box step, as Ian stood by watching. Andie gave up and grabbed the dark haired med-tech for a real demonstration, calling out orders over her shoulder at the Denobulan who was worried about maneuvering his feet while Liz partnered with him. Andie spent so much time watching Phlox that she tripped over her own feet, causing Ian to stumble. They bumped into Liz who stepped on Phlox's toes and all four began to giggle.

"I guess there's nothing to worry about," Archer spoke out loud. "It looks like she's fitting into the ship's routine after her illness." He sounded disgruntled.

Trip caught a glimpse of Archer's pout out of the corner of his eye. "She's a doctor. I'm sure she understands the fine points of what she went through better than you or I."

Archer nodded. "I don't want her to undervalue her experience," he added. "She should remember her mistakes and learn from them."

Trip looked curiously at his old friend. "I'm sure she does." They watched the haphazard dancing a moment longer. "Of course, it's not good to dwell on the past. My mother always said you can't see the future if you keep looking behind you."

Archer's face softened. "Your mother has an endless supply of..."

"Useless information, don't I know it!" Trip grinned. "Of course, being my mother, she's also a very smart woman." He chuckled.

"We got off to a rocky start, but I guess everything's all right now. Isn't it?"

For once, Archer seemed to need reassurance from Trip. The thought that the man in charge might need comfort startled Trip. The captain hadn't needed anything from him in a long time.

"Yeah," he admitted softly. "Everything's going to be fine."

Archer nodded and left the corridor. Trip watched him go. Only when the captain turned the corner did Trip enter the room.

* * *

The music was not at Andie's usual volume, but that's because they were trying to talk over the top of it. It was a spirited jazz number than immediately made Trip think of vacations to the Big Easy.

"Hey! Can I cut in?" he teased Ian, who let go of Andie and stepped back.

Andie stepped into Trip's arms breathlessly and let herself be spun around the room. "You're almost as bad as Phlox," she giggled at Trip.

"I'm an engineer, not Fred Astaire," he protested, spinning her wildly and causing her to stumble. Thankfully the music came to an end and all the participants called and end to the festivities.

Ian removed the audio disc and smiled at Andie. "Thanks, I'll listen to the rest this evening."

"My pleasure," she nodded, the smile fading reluctantly from her face. "I'm starved!" she looked at Trip. "After dinner I'm heading straight for bed though. My shoulder is killing me!"

"You should have told me!" Phlox protested and insisted that she hold still while he ran a scanner over the injury.

"It's not serious!" she protested but she held mostly still under Phlox released her, reminding her to tell him about any lingering pain. Rolling her eyes, she agreed and dragged Trip out of the room.

"How was your first day back?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Phlox wants to write a paper on my illness and he followed me around all day asking what it felt like to be a wolf, whether I could communicate with the other wolves, whether I had any urge to mate..." She shook her head. "He's got a one track mind!" she finished in exasperation.

"That he does," Trip agreed. "Ensign Black seemed to be very understanding."

"Yeah, he...um..." Andie stopped speaking and yawned widely. "What was I saying?"

"Ian," Trip supplied, taking in the shadows under her eyes.

"Right. Turns out he used to spend most of his summer holidays with an aunt and uncle in Louisiana, because he's got a passion for jazz music. I made him a copy of an audio file and asked Chef to make some sweetened southern tea and beignets and had them brought down at tea time."

"You bribed your way into his good graces?" Trip asked, amused.

"Hell yeah!" she agreed. "Nothing wrong with a little bribery!" She yawned again.

"You're tired," he noted. "Why don't you head to your quarters and I'll bring you a tray from the Mess Hall."

"You don't need to wait on me, she protested. "I just need a cup of coffee."

"How many have you had today?" he inquired.

Her guilty look told him everything he needed to know.

"You can't survive on caffeine alone," he told her. "I'll bring you a bowl of soup, okay?"

He could tell she really wanted to protest, but weariness won out. "Thanks. She watched him step out of the lift.

* * *

More than one pair of eyes noted the tray that Trip filled. Two bowls of minestrone, two salads, two slices of pie, and two glasses of tea made quite a nice picnic. He was struggling to push the button that would let him out of the room when a cook hurried out of the kitchen.

"It is for Doctor Andie, yah?" the cook asked.

"Yes," Trip answered carefully. Chef had a temper and some funny ideas about who should and should not have trays delivered to their rooms.

"For the kitties, then, yah?" The cook added two very small bowls of what smelled like crab chowder.

"Thanks," Trip nodded as the chef opened the doors for him. It was weird, he thought. The cook hated everybody, but went out of his way for Andie. The captain generally liked everybody, but couldn't stand to be near her.

She was definitely unusual, he thought.

* * *

By the time he reached her cabin she had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt that read "Superstar" in silver letters. She had thrown two pillows on the ground on either side of one her enormous trunks, and covered it with a red afghan.

"That's cozy," he remarked nervously.

"I left the fine linens in my other trunk," she joked badly. She knelt on one of the large floor pillows and Trip took a moment to mentally thank T'Pol for all that neural pressure that allowed him to kneel on the pillows without difficulty. The seating brought both of them down to the same level, but it also allowed for two felines to sit on the bunk and stare right at the tempting food.

"Chef sent them something," Trip gestured to the crab soup. Andie brought a towel from the bathroom and set it under their bowls on the bed. Both tiny heads dug in with gusto.

"You'd think they'd never eaten before," she smirked. She caught Trip's eye. "Thanks for dinner."

"My pleasure," he told her, and was surprised to find it was true.

While they ate they talked about idle things. "I try and offer a selection of movies that everyone will like," he told her. "What's your favorite kind of film?"

"Most girls like pirate movies," she told him. "I think it's something about the half-naked chest."

He chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind." After dinner, he stacked the empty dishes on the tray to be returned to the galley, and she pulled a bottle out of her cupboard.

"The last time I had a drink with you, we both got in trouble," he protested weakly.

"Actually I got in trouble," she corrected him. "You just got a concussion." She handed him a glass anyway.

He didn't refuse.

"I didn't think about bringing a bottle with me when we went into the Expanse," he remarked, enjoying the feel of the whiskey as it burned its way into his stomach. "I should have. It might have helped me sleep."

"Do you still have trouble sleeping?" she asked intently.

"No, it got better," he told her morosely. He forced a grin. "I've got my own bottle back in my room."

She smirked obediently.

Trip noted the twist of wires lying next to the door. "What's that?"

"Something my father told me I should never be without," she replied cryptically. Catching his puzzled glance, she added ruefully, "It's a wall hanging. It's as ugly as a monkey butt, but it's always hung in my room wherever I went."

Trip chuckled. "I'll get someone in from Engineering to hang that tomorrow."

"Thanks," she sighed. "I was afraid I might cut into some gas line and we'd all blow up if I did it myself."

"Please don't do it yourself then," he hastened to add. They chuckled. Trip finished his whiskey.

"I've got to get up early tomorrow," he stammered, suddenly at a loss.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were running away," she teased him.

"No, I...uh...I just wanted to make sure you were feeling all right," he faltered. "You've had a long day. You should get some sleep."

"Good night, Trip," she took the empty glass from him. "Pleasant dreams."

"Night, Andie." Trip walked back to his quarters.

He thought he could blame his dreams on the whiskey or the early bed time. In his mind, he could see himself as a small boy, using his father's tool kit to tear apart the lawn mower when he was supposed to be cutting the grass. His sister Lizzie knelt by his side, always curious. "Whatcha doin, Trip?" she asked over and over again. "I'm workin'," he replied crossly. "Hand me that screwdriver, wouldja?" The hand that offered the tool didn't belong to his younger sister. It belonged to the new doctor who watched him with uncommonly serious eyes. "What are you doing, Trip?" the grown-up doc asked.

In his cabin, Trip sat up with a gasp. He shook his head and refused to dwell on his dreams as he threw himself back against the pillow and went back to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

A raucous burst of laughter preceded the group that entered the Mess Hall the next evening.

"I knew it! I did!" Travis exclaimed rather loudly in order to be heard over Hoshi's triumphant cackle.

"No, you didn't!" she chortled, jostling the man next to her. "How high did he jump?"

"I'd say 'bout two meters," Trip drawled, chuckling at Mayweather's outrage. "Almost as high as Rostov," he added.

"It was a good one," Rostov mused, refusing to raise his voice as he followed the others into the room.

Liz Cutler smiled approvingly before joshing her own partner. "You should have seen Ian. I thought he was going to pass out!" She giggled.

Ian helped himself to a plate and began peering at the selections. "I didn't find it funny at all," he protested although the final member of their group noticed how hard he struggled to suppress his laughter.

"You didn't find it funny until Travis screamed like a girl," Andie amended quietly, and was rewarded with a small chuckle.

"Well, yeah," Ian admitted. "Who knew all those muscles hid his inner child?"

"And a girl child at that!" Hoshi crowed.

Travis threw a tiny round tomato at Hoshi who ducked and reached for her own plate.

"Mmm! Chef's pasta bar will cure what ails ya!" Trip sighed. "Four kinds of noodles, five kinds of sauce an' a variety of toppings!"

"All those carbohydrates will put you to sleep before the movie even starts," Andie pointed out.

"No way!" Trip grinned. "Travis and I chose a double feature that's sure to keep everyone awake!"

"A double feature?" Hoshi looked concerned. "I'm not sure about _any_ of your movies and now there's two?"

"We needed something special to kick off movie night again," Travis protested, taking his heavy plate to a large table near the window. The others trailed after.

"It'll be great," Rostov added. "Both movies are classics!"

Hoshi and Liz squeaked in protest. "You told Rostov but you won't tell us which movie?" Hoshi demanded of Travis who grinned and shrugged.

Trip nudged Andie who stared vacantly at the choices on the buffet. "You okay?" he asked quietly as the rambunctious members of their group moved away from them.

Startled, Andie forced a smile. "Tired," was her simple answer. She added food to her plate and joined the others.

Trip watched her go and made to follow, but a lone figure at the corner table caught his eye. "You want to join us, Malcolm?" he drawled, sitting for a moment and popping a mushroom in his mouth with his fingers.

"I was hoping to get some work done," Reed held up the padd he'd been reading. "I was having some success until the circus came to town." He nodded meaningfully at the noisy group.

Trip grinned. "Hoshi finally got back at Mayweather for that gelatin prank he pulled on her."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "That only took three years," he smirked. "What did she do to him?"

"She got Liz to create some prosthetics and convinced Rostov to lead Travis around to her quarters and lay on the floor in the corridor with Andie bending over her. Travis thought Andie had a relapse and was eating on Hoshi."

Reed looked askance at Trip. "You found that funny?"

Trip snickered. "It was the way Travis jumped and screamed. I guess you had to be there," he added hastily as Reed's continued to glower.

"Apparently," Reed concurred. It sounded cruel, he thought. Then he wondered if Travis really jumped two meters and whether he had truly sounded like a little girl when he screamed. "Maybe it was a little funny," he allowed.

"You're coming to the movie tonight, right?" Trip asked, swirling spaghetti around his fork and taking a bite. It seemed a shame to let Chef's good work get cold.

"A double feature seems like a long time to sit in a dark room without speaking," Reed commented.

Trip chuckled. "Sitting alone in a dark room for hours seems like your cup of tea," he teased. Reed had always been reserved, but since their return to work after the Expanse, Reed had brought reservation to a whole new level.

Reed waved his padd. "If I've finished my work, I may take the time," he answered.

"Well, then, I hope to see you there!" Trip smiled. He rose and joined the noisier companions.

Reed watched them for a moment, feeling a little lonely watching the others have such a good time. He'd been on board four years and nobody had ever played a practical joke on him, or used him to perpetrate one. It didn't seem fair that Andie Brainerd had been on board less than two weeks and was fitting in like she'd always been there. He turned back to his padd when she seemed to catch him staring. It didn't seem fair that a woman who kept so many secrets held the confidence of so many of the crew.

His contact at Starfleet Command had returned with an answer much quicker than Reed had hoped for. The school in Switzerland that Andie had attended as a child had difficulty with its funding and was no longer in service. It seemed to disappear off the charts as soon as she'd graduated. His contact had also found it difficult to track down any of the former students of the school, which wasn't surprising since it had been such a small facility.

Reed continued to peruse his letter. Although most people took at least six years to complete their college courses and medical training, Andie Brainerd appeared to have done it in less than five. Surely she couldn't be some medical genius, could she? Of course, he thought to himself, her father was a medical genius. It wasn't so difficult to believe that she might have inherited some of his mental acumen.

He might have given up on all his suspicions if it weren't for one small detail. There was no birth certificate on file with Starfleet Command for Andrea Brainerd.

That was merely an oddity, and not excessively so. Several people had incomplete paperwork when a senior officer could vouch for their adequacy. On his behalf, his contact had gone ahead and tried to verify the birth with the hospital directly. In a very short time one small detail became clear. There was not a single hospital in Santa Fe, New Mexico that had a birth record of Andrea Brainerd. As a matter of fact, his contact had written at the end of the letter. There wasn't a record in any city in New Mexico at all.

Malcolm Reed studied the woman from across the room. She had to come from somewhere. The question remained. Who was Andrea Brainerd?

* * *

The credits rolled on the first film to a very quiet in-house audience. Not one person so much as chewed on a piece of popcorn and not one person jumped up to hit the head. They waited in the dim light for a reaction.

One dark pair of eyes rolled around to glare at her companion. "That was the movie I had to see? That was the 'special film' that could not be missed?" Her tone was dangerously low.

"It's a classic," Trip replied with feigned innocence. Her glare didn't lessen, but his resolve did. "Travis helped me pick it out." There was a small movement of protest from the co-conspirator in the row ahead of them.

"I imagine you think you're funny," she growled. "_An American Werewolf in London_? Is that supposed to be funny?" she challenged with a growing temper.

Trip worked really hard to stifle the chuckle. "It's a classic," he repeated in a choked voice.

Her elbow connected with his ribs hard enough to make him grunt and Andie stood and slapped her fingertips against the back of Travis's head making him yelp. "You two are jackasses!" she protested. Snickers filled the room.

Beside Mayweather, Hoshi giggled. "The were-wolf goes to Paris next!" she chirped.

"Har-dee-har," Andie grumbled, sticking her tongue out at Trip. The room exhaled in relief. After her brief burst of temper it looked like she was going to stick with humor. "Just for being obnoxious, you owe me a new tub of popcorn!" Thrusting the empty bowl under Trip's snickering nose, she added, "and another cup of coffee!"

Obligingly, he got up to comply, followed by others who needed a moment to freshen up before the next picture started.

"Are you enjoying the movie, Doctor?" The Englishman slid onto the chair next to her.

She eyed Malcolm carefully. "It's fine," she answered.

"I found it interesting to note the places the movie indicates took place in London," he noted. "The next movie takes place in Paris," he went on. "I'm sure you'll have a similar reaction to the Parisian locales."

She just fixed him with a puzzled look.

"Since you went to school in Switzerland, I'm sure you must have taken holidays in Paris," he clarified. "It'll be like a homecoming." Reed watched her carefully for her reaction.

Andie studied him quietly for a moment. "I didn't do much traveling then. The school was run by former nuns who didn't believe in fun." Her tone was polite, but lacked her customary warmth.

"Surely your parents took you around when they came to visit?" he persisted.

"My mother remarried. She had a new family and didn't come around much. My father, of course, was busy elsewhere." Her attitude was definitely frosty now.

"You didn't travel at all?" he asked in disbelief.

"I didn't say that," she refuted.

"You didn't say much of anything at all," he pointed out.

"I don't feel the need to rehash my entire childhood at the movies," she retorted. "I don't think it's any of your business."

"You don't think the past is any of my business?" he parried.

"My past is of no concern to you, the way that your past should not be of concern to me," she spoke sharply.

"Is that a threat?" he scoffed, his nerves suddenly on edge.

"I didn't mean it be a threat, anymore than you did. I just thought you overstepped the boundaries of good taste," she responded. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I think I may need a moment to myself." She stood.

He grabbed her arm.

"What's going on here?" Trip's drawl broke the grip on the two verbal combatants.

"Reed was concerned about my nerves," she replied with a chilly smile. "I was telling him I'd be fine."

Blue-gray eyes studied her sharply. "I'd hate to think she was frightened away by your choice in movies," Reed added, releasing her arm and rising as well. "I see she's in good hands." He left.

"What was that all about?" Trip asked. He wasn't sure if he should take further action or not.

"He's a weird little man," Andie sighed. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" She slipped out of her chair and exited the room, presumably to join the other ladies in line at the bathroom down the hall.

She returned several minutes later and sat beside Trip just as the lights dimmed.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Yes," she smiled brightly at him. He offered her popcorn. Malcolm re-entered the room and took a seat on the far side of the room, next to Phlox.

"You should shake some pepper on this," Andie indicated the popcorn she popped in her mouth, without removing her eyes from the screen. She missed the shock in his blue eyes.

"Lizzie used to eat it that way," he whispered quietly.

She met his eyes in the semi-dark but didn't ask about who Lizzie might be.

After the movie, they remained in the mess hall with many others, sipping beverages before bed.

"I can't believe you thought that's a movie I just had to see!" Andie glared playfully at a giggling Mayweather and a guilty Tucker.

"It's a classic movie!" Tucker protested weakly. Never mind that the crew in attendance had snickered through the entire movie, peeking over their shoulder at her.

"I liked the big fight scene when the villagers hunted down the bloodsucking creature! That was awesome!" Mayweather enthused.

Andie and Trip looked at Mayweather. "Were we watching the same flick?" he asked. When Andie turned her head, he gave the young man and extremely dark glare. Cowed, Travis slipped off to talk to a pretty young crewmate.

"Lizzie used to jump at the scary movies. We used to go every weekend," Trip told her, fishing the last of the popcorn from the bowl in her lap.

"You could do better," Andie grinned. "You promised me a pirate movie!"

Trip grinned back at her. "Girls like pirates, I'm told," he parroted her words. "I think it's something about the billowing shirts." They carefully avoided all discussion of the clash earlier.

"Oh, I don't know," she batted her eyes at him as she flicked the collar of his blue jumper. "There's something to be said for a man in uniform."

"Lizzie thought the blue brought out my eyes," Trip murmured, remembering the day he graduated from Starfleet.

Andie stilled, although the grin didn't entirely disappear from her face. "That's the third time tonight that you've mentioned your sister. I thought we were getting friendly. I mean, I know you're from the South, but geez,..." Her grin was honestly good-natured as she enjoyed her own joke.

Trip looked embarrassed. "You kinda remind me of her," he admitted.

Chewing on her lower lip, she watched his expression fall. "So what does that mean?"

Trip squeezed her hand. "I guess this means I feel like your brother?" He looked ruefully into her wide eyes.

Andie sighed. "Next thing you know, you'll be beating up bullies in the schoolyard to defend my honor." She gasped and put a hand over her mouth in great exaggeration. "Oh! Wait!" She gestured to the area of the mess where the altercation with the armory officer had taken place earlier.

Trip raised an eyebrow. "You're a brat," he pretended to pout, relieved that she seemed to be taking the news pretty well.

She grinned and slapped gently on his arm. "I'm told that most sisters are!" She stood and drained the last of her tea. "Walk me home, tough guy." She placed her cup in the bin, and they left, unaware of the piercing blue orbs following every move they made.

* * *

"If you like her you should just say something," Hoshi spoke quietly at his side.

"I don't like her," Reed insisted. "I find it curious that I know so little about her."

"Is that what the interrogation was about?" Hoshi's dark eyes indicated that once again she saw more than she was supposed to.

"I was asking about her childhood and she grew snippy," he told her, dropping his empty mug in the bin with the other dirty dishes.

"Men!" Hoshi hissed good-naturedly. "They are all amateurs when it comes to gathering information!"

"You think you can do better?" he challenged her lightly. Hoshi had been spending more time than usual in the gym recently, and Reed knew that she was craftier than she looked. More than once, she'd caught him on a blind-side with her gloved fists.

"I'll see what I can do," she agreed.

He squeezed her arm. "Thanks. You need an escort to your room?"

She chuckled. "Thanks, but I was hoping for a different kind of escort tonight." Her dark gaze located a tall MACO in the crowd and Malcolm nodded knowingly.

"Good luck," he offered along with a blush. "Don't tell me how it goes, though. I might have to defend your honor."

"I think I can take care of myself," she grinned. She took herself off to make herself available and Malcolm took himself off to bed.

* * *

"You know, Malcolm isn't really so bad," Trip mentioned as he hovered in her doorway. "You just seem to rub him the wrong way."

Andie smiled ruefully. "I do seem to do that, don't I?" she mused.

Trip's blue eyes regarded her carefully. "Malcolm's my friend and I'd hate to see him get in trouble just because he's having trouble relating to you. Could you, maybe, ease up on him a little bit?"

Torn between making a nasty remark about Malcolm's behavior, and the need to remain friendly with the crew, Andie heaved a sigh and took the high road. "I'll see what I can do," she acknowledged.


	15. Chapter 15

"What kind of a person doesn't even have a birth record on file?" Malcolm stabbed at his steamed vegetables with a vengeful fork. "Why won't she answer the simplest questions about her background?"

Trip sipped his iced tea and stared at his friend. "You were on board eight months before we ever had a conversation about your personal background, and we only had that because we were trapped on a shuttle and thought we were going to die! She's only been here a few weeks! Give it some time!" Irritation was evident in his tone. Malcolm had been tearing his ear off over dinner about how reclusive and secretive the doctor was being.

"She might poison us all if we give it 'some time'!" Malcolm blustered. "If she's lying about her birth date, perhaps she's lying about her competency as a physician!" He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth and chewed triumphantly.

"Most women lie about their birth date," Trip observed sourly. "That doesn't make them all spies."

"You are far too accepting of her evasiveness," the chief of security determined.

"You are far too enthusiastic about uncovering something naughty," Trip noted. "What's your problem? What's she ever done to you?"

_She'd gone around kissing half the crew,_ Malcolm thought. If that wasn't suspicious, he didn't know what was. She'd kissed him twice and it put him off-balance. He hated to be off balance. Deep inside, he knew that being off-balance was the key problem with the foray into the Expanse. If Earth had information about their enemies before the incident that wiped out most of Florida, then they could have avoided such an unfortunate loss of life. Malcolm had dealt with enough secrets in his lifetime and didn't plan on allowing any more of them.

"She's a disgrace to Starfleet protocols," he replied to Trip's question with an adamant head nod. "She scoffs at the captain, she doesn't salute, she carries that flea bag around on her shoulder all day, she..."

"...knows her ears are burning." A bright voice spoke from somewhere over his head, and Malcolm winced.

"Evenin', Andie," Trip greeted her with a grin. He enjoyed sparring with Malcolm almost as much as he enjoyed watching Andie knock him off balance.

"I'm really looking forward to phase pistol practice tonight," she added with false brightness as she rolled her eyes at Trip after turning her head so Malcolm couldn't see. She sipped from her mug as she sat down and joined them without waiting for an invitation. Trip scooted over obligingly, but Malcolm glared at her interference.

The flea bag arranged a position on her lap, and turned to stare at Malcolm, giving a very good impression of a scowl. Trip offered him a small bite of chicken, but Leon continued to stare at Malcolm with an undisguised disgust equaled only by the human who returned it.

"Did your mother breast feed you, Lieutenant?"

"What!" Malcolm's head snapped back to his dining companions while Trip choked on his food.

Andie's expression was deceptively sweet. "You seem to be concerned with the exchange of personal information, and I thought we could start off the evening with a little reciprocity. Did she breast feed you? How did that make you feel?" She waited patiently for the answer.

"I don't remember," he stammered uncomfortably.

"Do you have these problems with memory loss often, Lieutenant?" Blue eyes danced merrily at his discomfiture. "Strokes can often be detected by sudden onset memory loss."

"I'm not having a stroke," the armory officer gritted out through clenched teeth. A vein pulsed in his forehead.

"In the interest of sharing personal information, I'm wearing pink lace underwear," Andie offered with a coquettish head tilt. "My blues are all in the laundry. What are you wearing?"

"None of your business," Malcolm hissed.

"Are you wearing anything at all? Do you chafe, you know...down there?" Andie's perky curiosity was making Malcolm turn purple.

Trip slowly closed his eyes in a silent wince on the all-out attack.

"Excuse me," the security officer stood abruptly. "I have some work to do in the armory."

"You know what they say about a man who plays with long hard objects all day, don't you, Lieutenant?" she called cynically after him as he made a hasty exit.

"You've got a mean streak, you know that?" Trip sighed. "And you're kind of perverted too."

She beamed. "You don't know that half of it," she purred. When the mean man was gone, Leon consented to eat his chicken and reached out a paw to touch his mistress's arm for more.

"I thought you were going to try and get along with him?" Trip wondered. His blue eyes tried to convey his disapproval.

Andie shrugged and sipped her coffee.

"Hey, Leon!" Travis Mayweather dropped his tray on the table, and rumpled the fur on top of the orange head in greeting. "Good evening, Doc," he grinned amiably. "Was that Lieutenant Reed who left in such a hurry?"

"He said something about priming the torpedo bay," she smiled.

"Really?" Trip chuckled. "I was under the impression that he was going to polish his gun."

Andie winced. In her haste to discomfit her enemy, she forgot that she would be stuck under his thumb all evening.

"Well, it sounds like he's going to have a good time no matter what," Travis commented idly, not paying attention to the snickers from the blond engineer at the double entendre as he sniffed appreciatively at his dinner.

* * *

Andie dragged her feet down to F Deck, praying silently for a contingent of sex-crazed, fiery-eyed Klingons to descend and make phase pistol practice impossible. Silent pleas sent heavenward requested a troop of sermonizing, born-again Surakians to attack the ship for its lack of logical atonement. One good wrench thrown into the warp engine might actually wipe out this whole section of the ship, she thought hopefully.

In spite of the care she had taken to secure her cat in her quarters, she looked down as she stepped out of the turbo lift to find an orange ball weaving in between her legs while he purred loudly. Scooping him into her arms, she kissed his wet nose. "How did you get out?" she wondered out loud.

Poking her head into the training space, she found Reed standing off to one side, checking the equipment they would be using.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," she spoke serenely. "Leon seems to have escaped and I need to secure him in my quarters before we begin."

"I expected you to have considered your menace to society before you started down here," Reed gritted through clenched teeth. He hated tardiness. It showed a lack of respect for your colleagues, not that Doctor Brainerd showed any concern for her co-workers at all.

"Won't take but a minute!" she chirped.

"Don't bother," he told her. "Let's just get started. We're working with blank cartridges. Your cat would only suffer a minor shock if he should get in the way." He tried to stifle his glee at the thought but he didn't think he was successful, giving the dark look that shot his way.

"I. don't. think. so." Andie spoke slowly, cuddling her kitty close and turning on her heel. "Just give me a minute."

Ten minutes later she returned to the practice room. He noticed she had changed out of the dark blue scrubs she had on at dinner and was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt that read "_Plays well with others"_ in white. When she turned around to note the target as he pointed it out, he noticed that the back of her shirt read _"Does not play well with others."_

"Is there something wrong with your uniform?" he asked solicitously. "Such as it is, of course."

She ignored the slur on her scrubs and took the pistol he handed to her. "I changed into something with more maneuverability," she told him shortly.

"Yes, I'm sure wearing pajamas all day could be very constrictive," he murmured sarcastically. This wouldn't do at all, he told himself. He could feel the tension pinching his shoulders. His ability to hit a target would be compromised if he didn't relax.

"Depends on the pajamas," she answered shortly. Just being here was giving her a headache. Promising to stop by Sickbay for the largest dose of analgesic possible, she obediently stepped up to the mark on the floor. Using both hands to hold the weapon pointed down in front of her, Reed briefly outlined the specs on the weapon and quickly explained the targeting sensor.

"A light will fly through the room and you aim and fire as you would in the field," he went on, wondering, despite his best intentions not to, whether she had changed out of her pink lacy underwear.

The targeting sensor flashed. Closing both eyes and pulling the pistol into the air, Andie squeezed the trigger, feeling the heat course through the hand grip. It dissipated as soon as the weapon stopped firing. Prying her eyes open, she glanced at Malcolm. He didn't look happy.

"You really should leave your eyes open when you fire a weapon," he told her mockingly. "The targeting sensor will deploy more than one target at a time. You must hit each one before the timer runs out." He raised an eyebrow. "That means you'll have to fire more than once," he suggested helpfully.

The weapon in her hand made her feel sick to her stomach. She could feel panic reaching out from her insides, threatening to take control of her body and send her screaming out of the room. There was no reason to feel this kind of panic. Firing a pistol wasn't this hard at Starfleet. Silently she inhaled and exhaled slowly, willing her pulse to stop racing. There was a tiny niggle at the back of her mind. If she turned the pistol on herself, he couldn't make her finish, could he? It was a blank cartridge; it wouldn't do any harm. Of course, her mind replied, you'd be put under psychiatric study immediately. And Malcolm Reed would win.

It was the last thought that forced her eyes open. She arranged her feet more solidly on the mark and nodded to start the simulation again. Raising the firearm, she fought to control her shaking fingers and fire at the ball of light.

Malcolm watched her carefully. She seemed more than a little upset by this exercise. At the moment, her cheeks were too pale making her eyes seem to big for her face. She barely managed to hit two out of ten targets and he sighed. It was going to be a long night if he had to soothe her nerves at the same time.

"Firing a pistol can be unnerving," he told her in a manner that was supposed to be non-threatening. "It may help you to remember that there are two settings, and the most commonly used setting is stun. It is a non-lethal weapon, used to neutralize the threat to you and your crewmen."

_I can think of a threat I'd like to neutralize_, Andie thought darkly, resenting the condescending tone that stuck-up Brit was using, not realizing that he probably meant it to be soothing. The headache intensified, almost blinding her with the strain. Clenching her jaw, she pushed away the perception of pain, determined to get through this so she didn't have to come back again.

"Here," Malcolm took the gun from her grasp. "Use less force on the grip. Hold it softly in your hand. It will improve your aim." He demonstrated, trying to pry her white knuckled fingers off the handle.

He was standing so close she could feel the warmth from his body through her tee shirt. Irritably, she shoved her shoulder in his direction, knocking him back onto his heels. "Fine. I've got it."

When she snapped at him his eyes narrowed. This was _his_ room, he thought. He was the supreme power in here, and she had no business telling him how to conduct his. "I'm only telling you this because it might save your life or the life of your crewmen someday," he retorted. "You should pay attention."

"You should be sure and bite my ass!" she hissed.

"That kind of talk will not be accepted in here," he warned her. "You will show the proper respect to your colleagues."

"How can I show the proper respect to man who can't remember if he was breast fed?" Now she was just picking a fight with him. She could realize that with a calm head, but could not stop her petulant tone if her life depended on it.

"Leave my mother out of this!" he shouted. Her audacity was downright shocking.

"Sure! Apparently you did!" she retorted, color burning her cheeks now.

"That behavior is uncalled for and I will be making a report to the captain!" Malcolm reached for the gun, no longer interested in besting her, just wishing to get rid of her. "Your conduct is unbecoming of an officer."

"Don't" she twisted her body out of reach of his hands. "I am going to finish this so I don't have to look at you!"

Malcolm reached insistently across her body to take the weapon, trapping her in his arms. Andie shifted her weight.

* * *

A few minutes later, a call was made to Sickbay. "Could we get a med team down to the armory?" Brainerd's voice inquired politely. "Lieutenant Reed has been shot."

Three men scrambled after Phlox and hurried to the practice room. Reed lay on the floor holding a phase pistol of his own at Dr. Brainerd. The lady in question sat on the floor with her back resting against the wall, waiting patiently for backup.

"He refused to let me treat him," she explained tartly.

Archer and Tucker, both of whom had responded when Phlox contacted them, hurried in as Reed abandoned his customary stoicism and cursed a blue streak.

"She shot me on purpose! I was trying to help her and she shot me!" he snapped, grunting as he was lifted onto a stretcher, a task made more difficult by the phase pistol he refused to put down.

Andie remained seated, cleaning her fingernails idly. "It was clearly a mistake," she refuted in a patronizing tone. "The pistol was loaded with blank cartridges. It's only a little shock!" Her protests turned more determined when Archer glared at her. "Besides, if you had to choose a place to get shot, that is one of the best places! It barely registers as a wound!"

"Where did you shoot him exactly?" Trip couldn't help but ask. They were loading Reed on his stomach and the pistol was being wrenched out of his grasp by Ensign Black.

"I shot him in the Armory, of course," Andie answered factually.

"Don't you let one lying word come out of your putrescent mouth!" Reed hissed. "I don't need medical treatment! I need a weapon!" He tried looking around for one, but the med-techs forced him to lie still on the stretcher.

"Andie?" The captain's question held a note of warning.

"I shot him in the back of the Armory," she answered primly. Her lips were pressed together and Trip didn't know if she was grimacing at the memory, or trying to stifle a laugh.

"On purpose?" Archer wanted to know. Reed was carried out, still venting a steady stream of insults at the female.

"Of course not, Captain," she poohed his suggestion. "I stumbled and the weapon discharged."

"While pointing at his ass?" Tucker tried to clarify with a straight face and failed.

She shrugged and tried not to look pleased with herself.

"I can't have you going around shooting my officers!" Archer bellowed. He made a mental note, when this was over, to go to his cabin and laugh it all out later, but right now there was a serious matter at hand.

"I didn't shoot him on purpose! It was an accident!" she repeated more stridently.

"How am I supposed to be sure of that?" Archer growled.

"If I was aiming to shoot him I would have caused him much more pain than a little shock to his posterior!" She flung the words at the door through which she could still hear the lieutenant shouting invectives back at her. "Jackass!"

Archer glared at her. She glared back at him.

"It was an accident," she repeated softly. He continued to glare at her. "Am I going to the brig, or can I go to my quarters?" she asked defiantly.

"You're not going to the brig," he told her, after a moment's consideration.

Nodding, she got up and walked out the door. "It's been a big day. I'm going to bed."

When she was gone, Archer looked at Trip who looked back at Archer.

"You've had practice with him," Trip chuckled. "How many times did you want to shoot him?"

"Yes, but she shot him in the butt!" Archer pointed out, hanging fiercely onto his stoicism and failing.

Trip joined his captain for a hearty chuckle before heading to Sickbay to check on Reed.

* * *

Reed wasn't injured; he had sustained a minor electrical shock to his fanny. Phlox was allowing him to sit upright as soon as he had confirmed the initial scan.

"I'm sure he'll be just fine!" Phlox chirped. "It's only his pride that was seriously wounded." Rocking back on his heels he waved Reed away when the man growled a request to leave.

Spitting like a wet cat, he led the trio to the command center where they called up security footage from the armory. There was no audio in that room; the noise from the tactical training would have made it impossible to hear anything most days anyway, but there was a clear picture. Reed reached for the weapon, Andie turned away, there was a quick tussle and the gun went off. As Reed dropped to the ground, he pulled a pistol from his side holster and pointed it at Andie, refusing to allow her near to him until she went to the comm. button near the door.

"It looks like an accident," Archer began thoughtfully.

"Her insolence is a danger to the whole crew, sir!" Reed pointed out. "It breeds insurrection among the others."

"Tell the captain how her lack of a birth record interferes with your ability to function," Trip teased Reed gently. The joke fell flat when the lieutenant went into a detailed explanation about the doctor's missing records.

Archer listened patiently. "Why would you go into Andie's background?" He didn't think the kind of investigation Malcolm mentioned would be sanctioned by Starfleet's security team.

"She's a danger to the crew!" Reed insisted again.

"Seems she's only a danger to you," Archer pointed out. This incident reminded him of a prank he pulled in middle school. He'd pushed the girl he liked down on the ground to get her attention. "Her performance aboard this ship has been sufficient, except for her interaction with you. It may be best if you create some distance between you and Doc Brainerd."

Malcolm started to offer more objections. "But, sir..?"

"That's enough, Malcolm. For the time being, leave Andie alone. I'll arrange for someone else to certify her weapons' training if it's that important to you."

"Captain!"

"You heard me, Malcolm!" Archer's voice rose. "Leave her alone!"

Malcolm didn't think it would be that easy.

"I don't want to see her attack anyone else," he spoke stiffly. "I'll see that she's qualified myself."

"See that you do." Archer turned on his heel and left.

* * *

"You shot Lieutenant Reed in the posterior?" Phlox inquired in that fatherly way he had. It was a tone that invited confidences even as it frowned on outrageous behavior.

"It was an accident," Andie muttered while she typed a report into the computer.

"You seem to vex Lieutenant Reed a great deal," Phlox observed.

"He vexes easily," she retorted.

"I have not found that to be the case," Phlox corrected her gently.

Andie sighed. "I don't think I fit in here the way I'd like," she noted.

"And you think that shooting the Lieutenant is the way to fit in?"

She grimaced and shook her head. She reminded Phlox of one of his daughters. He decided to try a fatherly route with her.

"It's hard to be accepted someplace new," he told her. "But I think if you expend the extra effort, you'll find it worthwhile."

Her smile was hollow. "I'll try and work on that," she told him with a tired smile. But inside her head she didn't think it would be that easy.


	16. Chapter 16

"Good morning, Doctor!" Those British tones were beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Morning, Lieutenant," she greeted him dourly. Leon perched on her shoulder, with his hind legs balancing on her backpack. He hissed at the sound of Malcolm. It amused Andie that her cat didn't like him anymore than she did.

It had been nearly a week since the incident in the armory and she had been avoiding him as much as possible.

"You missed another training session last night," he remarked as he fell into step beside her. "As I've told you, there are phase pistol sessions twice a week and the senior staff is encouraged to attend." She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off in a pleasant tone. "Don't tell me your shoulder is still troubling you? I was under the impression that Phlox had cleared you for all duties?"

Andie scowled. He was under that impression because he'd sought out Phlox and forced the Denobulan to admit her condition wasn't as serious as she made it out to be. Phlox had cheerfully mentioned the whole thing to her as they planted the last of the seedlings.

"I had other plans last night. I'm afraid I simply forgot about your training. I'm sure you had your hands full with the rest of your class?" Her tone was also extra sweet because she knew damn good and well that almost nobody bothered to attend the bi-weekly meetings unless ordered by the captain. Reed spent two hours a week in a gym by himself.

"What could possibly be more important than your phase pistol training?" he inquired with false concern. He recognized the slur on his training abilities perfectly well.

"Ladies night!" Hoshi volunteered. "We had a fantastic time! It's a pity you aren't a lady, Lieutenant. You'd love it!"

Hoshi and Andie giggled at a private joke and ignored Reed muttering his disbelief under his breath that Andie would be included in anything that admitted 'ladies.'

"Ladies night?" he inquired. He just knew he was going to regret asking.

"Since the women aboard Enterprise make up only about one fourth of the crew, I instigated a semi-regular meeting for the ladies to spend time together in this man's world," Hoshi beamed over-brightly.

"What does one do at this 'Ladies night'?" Malcolm inquired as they filled plates with breakfast.

"Oh, Malcolm," Trip appeared at Andie's shoulder and shook his head at the Lieutenant. "Never ask what women do when they get together. It's like trying to learn all the secrets of the universe in one go." He grinned at the women who snickered in return. "Might make your head explode."

"Yup," Andie agreed. "Secret chick stuff." She winked at Hoshi.

"We talk about our feelings," Hoshi tried to make it sound dull, clutching her chest.

"We do our hair," Andie added solemnly, twirling a curl around her finger.

"There's usually a pillow fight," Hoshi teased, nudging Andie with her shoulder.

"And we make out a lot," Andie offered casually.

Behind her Travis dropped his plate from fingers that had suddenly gone numb.

Andie didn't bother to turn, but a naughty look sparkled in her eye. "We make out letters to our mothers, and we make out a list of recipes to share. It's very boring." She and Hoshi nodded and giggled like teenaged girls. "And Travis is a bit of a pervert," she smirked, finally glancing back at the young man behind her.

Travis blushed and cleaned up his mess.

"Oh, yes," Malcolm agreed dryly. "I can see why that's so much more important than improving your self-defense techniques." Reed couldn't understand the draw of slumber parties because his sister had never had any. Someone else always seemed to host the event and she'd pack up her bedroll and spend the night. It never occurred to him to wonder what they do there.

"I'll catch one of the next ones," Andie assured him vaguely. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she announced haughtily.

"So far you've been outwitted by a shuttle pod, tossed around an eddy and attacked by wolves. What exactly are you capable of defending yourself against?" Malcolm's mouth twisted sardonically at the corners.

Pursing her lips, Andie shot Malcolm a dirty look. "I've successfully defended my heart against the magnetic pull of the Chief Engineer," she told him pertly. "A feat, I'm told, that many woman on board have failed." She winked at Trip.

Trip started to chuckle at their banter until he realized that he was part of it. "Which women?" he wondered out loud. Several pairs of eyes rolled and several snorts could be heard to answer his question. Trip Tucker was considered Enterprise's most eligible bachelor and the only person on board who didn't know it was the blond man himself.

"I'll see you later," Hoshi looked askance at Andie who nodded. Hoshi followed Reed to a table near the door.

"Can I join you for breakfast?" Trip asked Andie, watching her carefully as she selected a bowl of fruit to complete her loaded tray.

"Sure," she agreed easily, leading them to a small table far away from Reed and his companion. "Frittattas," she sniffed the egg dish appreciatively. "Free-tah-tah! Frittatta! Isn't that a great word?" She repeated it again as she splashed pepper over her plate and tucked in.

Trip smirked. "You seem more...conscious...than usual today," he replied carefully.

"I've been awake for about three hours," she told him, checking her watch. "I've already finished one thermos of Chef's espresso. I'm fully awake and raring to go!" She stole an orange wedge from Trip's plate.

"So...we're okay?" he asked quietly.

Tilting her head to one side, she studied him. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I haven't seen much of you recently and I thought you might be..." His voice trailed off.

"Upset that you haven't succumbed to my wiles?" That irrepressible grin was back. "You'll come around," she assured him with a wink. "They all do." She offered a lecherous eyebrow waggle. "I'm told men in the south find their sisters particularly attractive."

"Um..." He wasn't quite sure if she was joking.

Rolling her eyes again, she sobered slightly. "I knew what I was getting into. You told me on the shuttle. You're in love with somebody who can't or won't return your affections. Your mind thought you could get over it with me, but your heart isn't done mooning about." She fixed him with a saucy look. "I'm a doctor. It's not the first time I've treated this particular illness."

She was in a playful mood this morning and he could see he wasn't going to get a truly serious answer out of her. "Illness?" he repeated. "So there's a cure?" He tried to play along as she teased him.

"Oh, yes," she told him. "Time is the best cure, but it works slowly. Chocolate helps. So does liquor." Grinning, she went on. "Personally I'm hoping you pick the third option. I'm expecting you to get so hammered that you'll run around the ship without any pants on!"

Trip choked on his coffee. "Wha-at?" Mopping up his spilled beverage with his napkin, he felt his cheeks burning.

She affected an injured air. "I've got a bet with the ladies. You don't want to let me down. Besides, you're just too pretty to spend all day with your pants on!"

He choked on his coffee again as she tipped him another naughty wink.

"Free your ta-ta's!" she crowed again as she dug into her eggs.

* * *

"I see the doctor is feeling better today," Malcolm glared over Hoshi's shoulder at the woman making the word 'frittatta' sound funny across the room.

"She's on fire today," Hoshi agreed. "I'm not even sure she slept last night. We were up pretty late." She chewed on her toast thoughtfully.

"What _did_ the women talk about at Ladies Night?" Malcolm asked, unable to bear the curiosity.

"Gossip, mostly," she smirked. "We talked about the pretty boys on board." A MACO entered the room and nodded a greeting at Hoshi who returned the gesture with a nod.

"How was your escort the other evening?" Her breakfast companion teased her lightly noting her lessened interest in the MACO from movie night.

"I thought he was much more proficient in Russian than he turned out to be," she mused. "I was getting rusty, and I'd hoped to practice." She shrugged. "Maybe I can run some drills with the computer later."

Torn between the urge to josh the ensign further about her shady escapades, and the need to know more about his nemesis, Malcolm fell silent for a moment.

"You're probably wondering how it went?" Hoshi began. "There was a good turn-out. Of the ninety-four crewmen aboard, only twenty-two are female and almost all of them showed up."

"We could hear the music all the way in the Armory," Malcolm told her dryly. "I thought you were behind closed doors in the Observation Lounge?"

Hoshi giggled. "We did have a good time." She leaned conspiratorially across the table. "Do you know who Ensign Carter has a crush on?" At his wary look, she straightened and cleared her throat. "Never mind." She sipped her juice and continued with her report.

"When asked about her favorite book, Andie listed The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. She said the surrealism really spoke to her sense of chaos. When asked about her favorite movie, she cited any film with explosions and nudity. Her favorite color is red; she admitted that without prompting."

Malcolm drew his brows together. "I don't see the importance of books and movies," he protested and Hoshi sighed.

"Don't you know how to read between the lines?" she retorted gently. "She finds it difficult to talk about herself, which indicates an unhappy home life. Her favorite book is about being dislodged from one's home and engaging in a quest. I think she really feels out of her element on board. Her taste in movies indicates an aloof personality and a distance from any real emotional attachments. She doesn't prevaricate at all about her favorite color, a bold and eye-catching choice." She glared at Malcolm. "There's a lot of information to be had if you just look for clues!"

Peering at her over the rim of his mug of tea, Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to take your assumptions about her choices at face value? Didn't you discover any real information?"

Narrowing her eyes at his dismissal, Hoshi opened her mouth to offer more, but they were both startled into silence when something bright flashed past the windows outside. A call echoed through the open communications channel. "_All hands brace for impact_!" shouted the captain's voice, just before the entire ship shook violently.

"What the hell?" Andie muttered, jumping out of her seat and hurrying to the window to join most of the room at getting a better look.

"Weapons fire!" Malcolm exclaimed loudly, calling the others to attention. "Everyone get to your posts!" The large group of people left their plates and cups and hurried through the doors to their departments.

A loud clatter from the kitchen stopped Andie's departure to Sickbay. "That would be Chef," she muttered, even as a white coated cook poked his head through the galley door, looking for a medic. She was already pulling the smelling salts from the narrow pocket and watched an orange streak depart the galley in search of his own room. "Be careful, Leon!" she called after her cat.

It only took a moment to get Chef sitting upright. She explained in soothing tones that a ship had fired at them and he should expect more turbulence. Leaving him in the care of a kitchen staff that promised to keep him low to the ground in case of further faints, she hurried through the nearly empty Mess Hall.

One young man remained at the window. "That looked like a battle ship!" Henry Bowman stammered nervously.

"They'll need your help in Main Engineering, don't you think?" she asked pointedly, as he seemed content to stare out the window all day with her at his side. She glanced surreptitiously at his pupils as he blinked. He seemed normal, not suffering from shock.

"Oh," his face fell. "Right." The ship shook again and they tumbled together to the floor. "I'll walk with you. You might need help getting back to Sickbay," Henry offered. Gathering herself up, Andie took the proffered hand of the ensign and they made their way to the door. The young man sighed with great relief. Despite having served for several months aboard the Enterprise, he still wasn't particularly comfortable about being in combat situations and was glad for the company.

* * *

The turbo-lift was still running and they caught the ride to the next level. Main Engineering was chaotic. Men and women were running around, putting out small fires, adjusting controls to the engine and calling out readings from the main warp reactor. Andie helped Ensign Bowman along the catwalk on the upper level, intending to go down the steep ladder to the main floor below. The ship had stopped shaking, and Andie assumed they were no longer taking heavy outside fire from whatever enemy had appeared.

On the main floor, she saw Commander Tucker barking out orders to his crew, while standing on a catwalk next to main controls. "Commander, what happened?" she called out.

"Bowman, get over there and adjust the plasma flow!" Tucker directed the young man shaking silently next to Andie. "Andie! You shouldn't be here!"

She took no offense, since it seemed he had his hands full at the moment, and merely waved his protests away and headed for the door nearest Sickbay. At the moment, it seemed a good idea to get out of the way and let the professionals work. Even as she reached the door, a small explosion rocked the narrow catwalk they were standing on.

Bowman had overcompensated for the plasma flow and it burst upon the room in a quick flare. Other members of the Engineering team twisted the valve that cut the flow, and the incident was contained, except for a man screaming on the ground and holding his arm. Dr. Brainerd moved quickly.

Dropping to her knees, she unslung her med-kit from her back and began to treat his wounds. Pulling out a pair of scissors, she cut the fabric away from his arm to gauge the burns, which were severe. Calling out orders of her own, she applied a hypo-spray to his neck while leaning forward and whispering in his ear. His screams died down to a low moan. Gesturing to a nearby crewman, they started to help the young man to his feet, when chaos burst into the room below.

Warning lights continued to flash on all decks as MACO's dashed into the room, in hot pursuit of two heavily armed figures. Members of engineering stepped aside to let the trained soldiers do their work, especially after one engineer was batted aside as though he were a ball of lint. There was a brief go-round as the assailants dashed in one direction around the warp core only to be thwarted by the military staff. One of them dashed out the open door and several commando's followed. The one who remained behind was large and angry and faced the remaining two MACO's with a roar.

Henry continued to moan pitifully as he crouched in a corner. Sheltered somewhat by the overhanging walkway, Andie had a clear view of the altercation from above. She flattened herself against the wall and risked a peek over the edge. Sergeant Chang appeared and presumed to take on the fierce warrior, who seemed damned determined to get close to the large engine. A burst from a particle weapon missed the MACO target and hit the steep stairs instead, blowing the ladder to bits.

The young commando stepped forward to stop the assailant and was thrown through the air to land on his back, the impact driving his head into the floor and knocking him senseless. The Klingon turned to run away but was cornered by Chang who held a pulse rifle at the ready. He was taking aim, but never got the chance to use it. The burly creature knocked it aside with a growl and threw the MACO against the slick side of the warp engine where Chang shook his head dazedly. The weapon discharged as it hit the floor, causing steam to vent from the core.

"Stop firing at my engine!" Trip shouted, swinging down from the narrow catwalk and staring down the larger creature. The Klingon grabbed a chunk of debris from the ground, unmindful of its sharp edges and heated sides, and flung it at Trip who doubled over with pain at the impact to his midsection. The impact sent him into the wall behind him where he slid to the ground with a moan.

Chang didn't hesitate. Despite his wounds he stepped forward to engage the intruder but a single swipe knocked him backward against the wall. Chang struggled to his feet, but the attacker lunged and grabbed him, throwing him back across the narrow space to bounce off the warp core. Lifting him off the ground by his neck, he was held by his attacker as his feet dangled uselessly. He gasped for breath without success.

The warrior barked and growled in a language that Chang couldn't understand, and the human's face was turning purple. There were no other sounds nearby; distant sounds in the corridor indicated that the MACO's had followed the trail of a second intruder to another corridor. Members of engineering were scattered and frightened. Trip gasped for reinforcements from the com that crackled with static. There was nobody close by to come to the aid of the final victim.

One meaty fist is all it took to pin this human against their reactor pit, the Klingon noted. He chuckled with putrid breath, watching the colors change in the soft pink face. A soft voice broke through the attacker's concentration. Looking around he found a tiny female with pale colored hair. She stood a few meters away, with her shoulders squared and her body twisted slightly as though she hoped that appearing narrower, he would overlook her.

"Hey," she lifted her chin slightly in what was presumed to be greeting.

Next, she surprised him by speaking in his native tongue. Just three simple words: _Let him go_.

He ignored her.

She repeated the phrase, this time followed with a single word that could only be an imperative. _Let him go. Now._

He ignored her, brushing his free hand at her as though she was a pesky fly.

_You refuse to meet me on the field of battle,_ she spoke in guttural Klingon. _You are afraid to meet me in combat. _

The Klingon roared his outrage at the slur on his prowess. If anyone else in the room understood the language, they would have heard him shouting the name of his warrior clan on Qo'nos and the many feats that are attributed to him. His list of mercilessness had frightened others before. This little female seemed bored. She actually yawned.

_Just like human men,_ she sneered. _All talk and no action. _She added one single sentence at the end that had the Klingon roaring in outrage and frothing at the mouth. He threw the human male aside to land in a heap on the far side of the room and stomped toward Andie, spewing forth insults about how her gender would not keep her safe from her rash and reckless words.

His hands reached out to squeeze the life out of this little flower and she moved quickly to bring the short pipe that she'd held behind her crashing down on his wrists with all the gusto she could muster. The Klingon roared. Gripping the end of the pipe, she swung like a major league ball player and struck him squarely in the face, breaking his nasal passage. Spots appeared before the beady reddened eyes and his hands thrust outwards to clutch blindly at the space where the female had been. He only caught the tip of the heavy pipe.

Dropping to her knees to avoid to clutching paws, Andie thrust one fist at his leg and caught him above his knee. She gripped the pipe that he was about to bring down on the top of her head and used it as leverage to rise quickly, throwing him off balance with her weight. Her foot drove into the sensitive area at the juncture of his thighs. The Klingon was strong but not quick. He was also prone to the same attack as human males, doubling over and struggling to catch his breath.

In a complicated maneuver, Andie twisted her arms through the Klingons' and used his body for leverage as she rolled across his back and landed on her feet behind him, directly between him and the fallen MACO. There was a clang of metal as she assumed a defensive posture, her hands pulled together, a blade clutched in one of her hard little fists.

Feeling pain and slightly off-balance, the Klingon screamed a battle cry, one that had brought lesser species to their knees. This pale female just looked at him and screamed back. She held something in her hand. He recognized the hilt of his own _dh'ktahg_. Clutching at his belt, he meant to end this now, by introducing this maggot to the business end of his disruptor pistol.

His holster was empty.

The male he'd been strangling before, had staggered to his feet, and was holding the weapon in his unsteady hand. He'd caught it as it came sliding across the floor in front of him.

The Klingon couldn't take the insult of having been disarmed by a woman who hadn't even landed one good punch on him yet, but stood defiantly with his blade in one hand and the intent to use it in her eyes. She charged him.

He stepped right up to her, grabbing the wrist holding the blade and squeezing it until she grunted. His other hand grabbed her neck and he lifted her off her feet as he had done to the male before her. The woman's empty fist jabbed toward his neck, and he heard a faint hissing sound just before the world got fuzzier. His eyes refused to focus and his knees felt wobbly. Her fist hissed against his neck again as her skin turned purple and the Klingon saw the world slip away through a long dark tunnel.

His knees hit the deck and her feet touched the floor at the same time his hands refused to obey his commands to grip anymore. Convinced that this honor-less whore had something to do with the world that was slipping from his grasp, his final utterance before he slipped into unconsciousness was the simple sound of "D'oh?"

A large body mass tumbled backwards to land with a resonant crash on the deck plating next to the warp core.

Andie stood over him, choking oxygen back into her lungs and willing the room to focus in front of her. Movement caught her eye and she glanced at Chang, in much the same condition she was in, heaving for breath. He held the disruptor pistol limply in his hand, but his dark eyes were focused on the young woman next to him. An empty hypospray fell from her shaking fingers.

"Stupid Klingons!" she muttered hoarsely, staring at the body on the floor in front of her. "Took three doses to drop him!"

Dragging her gaze to meet the injured MACO, she nodded at his unspoken question. "You've got it from here?" she asked.

"Yeah," he choked the words out.

"You need medical aid. Come to Sickbay when you're done." Turning on knees that threatened to buckle beneath her, she stumbled out of Main Engineering and headed for a turbo-lift, passing reinforcements as she went.


	17. Chapter 17

The senior staff was gathered together in the Command Center, watching the replays of security footage.

"A Klingon Bird of Prey attacked without warning," T'Pol was saying. "It fired four shots at Enterprise, before we returned fire. It sped away when it realized we were well armed."

"There was an explosion that caused a bit of damage on the port nacelle, but we chased them away before they could finish the job." Trip was furious that they had damaged the ship at all and his tone was curt.

"Unless that's what the boarding party was for," Malcolm observed. "They used tactics we haven't seen from Klingons before. They seemed to have a plan rather than just smashing things."

"Four Klingons came aboard," T'Pol went on. "They landed on E Deck and made straight for Main Engineering."

"The MACO's drove a pair into the corridor outside the airlock," Malcolm interrupted. "The others managed to get up to D Deck andmade it all the way to Engineering. One led a security team out into the corridors but one remained behind. I believe sabotage was their motive. We discovered explosive charges in their packs."

Archer frowned and nodded sagely. "Can we see the security footage from Engineering again?" he asked. Malcolm started to bring it up on the flat panel in front of them. "Hoshi have you finished your translations?" The linguist nodded.

Reed winced as the MACO's that he trained were pushed aside and injured on the screen in front of them. Their success or failure reflected back on him, and the inherently large size of their prey shouldn't matter at all. He made a mental note to assign all MACO's another round of training in the evenings. They all watched quietly as the doctor stepped into the frame.

"She said 'let him go' and then repeats it here. She says he's afraid to confront her," Hoshi tapped a few keys on a data padd to make certain of the language.

Archer paused the playback. "It took you some time to work out this translation." That phrase was a question.

"Klingon has over one hundred dialects, Captain," Hoshi replied defensively. "They're similar but different in many key sounds."

"You were unfamiliar with this dialect?" T'Pol clarified. Hoshi nodded. "Doctor Brainerd was not."

They all exchanged meaningful looks.

"She knew enough to call him a coward," Trip noted.

"That's foolhardy at best," Malcolm snapped.

"What did she say there?" Archer queued up the playback to the final sentence Andie spoke before the Klingon tossed Chang aside like a used tissue.

Hoshi squirmed a little. "She said his mother was a...a Klingon of...questionable virtue...who raised a son who was afraid of women."

"She called his mama a whore?" Trip clarified.

"And implied that he was not virile," Hoshi added.

"How would she know his mother?" T'Pol queried.

"I think she was just using a common slur, like when she refers to Captain Archer as a son of a ..." Hoshi broke off, her face flaming. Archer raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I see she learned the basics," Reed commented wryly.

Archer's face hardened.

"Her technique is interesting," Reed went on. He pressed play and watched Andie drop to her knees. "She moved quickly and stayed out of reach. We found three empty hypos in the room." Andie dropped to her knees. "She hit him with a sedative right there above his knee." She tangled their arms together. "She kicked his gun out of his holster, here, jabbed him in the armpit with a second hypo and rolled over the top, here." He hit pause. "She kicked the disruptor behind her as she landed."

"I guess she can take care of herself," Trip noted with a raised eyebrow.

"Apparently," Reed huffed. "When she landed on the ground, she had a knife from his boot, and a third hypoin the other."

"I believe she allowed herself to be caught and choked in order to get close enough to administer the third sedative," T'Pol finished.

"Phlox to Captain Archer," a voice broke in over the comm.

"Go ahead," Archer hit the button on the wall.

"She's on her way, captain. There were a few injuries among the crew, but only one was serious. The crewman whose arm caught the plasma spray will remain in Sickbay for a few days."

"Thanks, doc," Archer flipped the button. He focused his gaze on the linguist. "How common is the dialect they used?"

"I don't know, Captain," she answered honestly. "I've never heard it before." Jonathan frowned and waved her away and Hoshi was very happy to be dismissed and slipped out the side door.

A few minutes later there was a chirp from the door. "Get in here!" Jon barked.

Andie slipped through the door, looking as though she was about to face a firing squad. She had changed clothes, from the blue scrubs she wore that morning to a pair of purple ones. The pink shirt underneath had longer sleeves and a turtleneck to hide the bruises that were beginning to darken around her throat. She carried a mug in her hands. Smiling nervously, she stepped into the full gaze of four pairs of eyes.

"You wanted to see me?" Her voice was husky, as though she had a cold, and Archer frowned to remember how she came by the injury to her throat.

"Hoshi's having trouble with the language the Klingons are speaking," he lied smoothly. "Would you help us translate?"

"If I'm able," she answered carefully. Jon frowned. He'd been hoping for a more liberal offer of assistance.

Flicking away the tell-tale pictures of Engineering, he brought up footage of the four creatures in the Brig. They argued and growled at one another and regularly used fists to emphasize whatever point they were making.

Andie moved closer to the image, frowning as she listened. Her chameleon eyes echoed the lavender tint of her scrubs, and she appeared far away.

"Some feel they are too necessary to be left behind. The others think they have not failed. They think we'll be...forced to stop anyway. There's some talk about prisoners." She frowned.

"They're talking about themselves?" Trip prompted, ignoring the captain's dark glare.

"No," she corrected him. "They have prisoners somewhere." She cocked her head to one side. "They are celebrating one of their own. He did something heroic." Disgust tinged her face. "Now they're just verbally abusing their guards." Andie looked at Archer. "I'm surprised Hoshi had such trouble with it."

"Apparently, the dialect is new," Malcolm answered for the captain. He waited with arms crossed for a reasonable explanation.

"Ah," she said. "Still, she shouldn't have any problems with this."

At least two of the four pairs of eyes staring at were hostile.

"That's quite a fighting style you've acquired," Malcolm noted. "Where'd you learn it?"

His tone set her teeth on edge. "Boarding school," she replied coolly. "Those bitches fight dirty."

"That's the only explanation you have?" Archer growled.

"Have for what?" Her posture was growing increasingly defensive.

"The first Klingon that Starfleet ever encountered landed in a cornfield four years ago! Hoshi Sato is the only human to translate the Klingon language. Yet you speak a dialect she doesn't know! Where did you learn Klingon?" Jon was shouting now and little drops of spittle flew out of his mouth.

"I didn't learn it on Earth," she told him calmly. "I learned it off-world." Color was beginning to pinken her cheeks as a frown line etched its way into her forehead between her eyebrows.

"Where?" he shouted again.

Andie paused, sipping her tea slowly, hoping that the moment would calm Archer down. "I was trapped once on a slow moving freighter," she told him. "I picked up the language from a passenger."

"What freighter? What passenger?" Malcolm chimed in. He believed that Andie was using the tea to give her a moment to come up with a suitable lie and he would not let her get away with it.

"I can't tell you what I don't remember," she told him coolly. "We were just attacked by Klingons who seem to have an ulterior agenda. Are we going to look into that mystery or are you going to stand here and shout at me all day?"

"I'd like some answers," Archer hissed.

"I gave you answers," she told him bitterly.

"Not the answers I'm looking for," he retorted.

"They're the only answers I have to give," she asserted.

"Why is that?" Malcolm butted in.

"Because the incident was classified!" she told him. "If you want more answers, you're going to have to petition Starfleet Command."

"Why was it classified?" Trip wanted to know.

Andie looked at him in surprise. He had been silent through this entire interrogation and his voice gave away none of his inner turmoil. "You'll have to ask Starfleet Command." Her voice was also blank.

"Do you think I won't?" Archer hissed.

"Actually, Captain, I'm kind of hoping you do." She sipped her tea and rubbed her throat through the pink shirt she wore. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," T'Pol interjected. "The Klingon prisoners have suffered some minor injuries. Would you treat them?"

"If they wish," she answered. "I'll get my bag." She nodded at Archer and left the room. T'Pol looked at Archer with disapproval for his angry tone and followed her.

"Malcolm," Jon began as he stood around the screen with his security officer. "Doctor Brainerd may be hiding something from her captain. I want you to look into her background and find out what that might be."

Malcolm nodded triumphantly. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

Trip looked uncomfortably at his friend. "She's not dangerous, cap'n," he protested weakly. His rubs still ached from the projectile flung at him by the Klingon. They had been carrying explosives, and they might have been able to blow up the warp core if Andie hadn't stepped in. He felt he had to defend her. It had nothing to do with the fraternal affection he felt for her, he told himself.

"I wish I could believe that, Trip," Archer replied. He watched the security play-back again. "She took down a Klingon. And she'd keeping secrets."

"Don't worry, captain," Malcolm promised. "I'll find out what they are." He knew just the person to call to look into this matter too.

* * *

They spent another half hour studying data from the attack. The Bird of Prey had flown off in the midst of the attack, but Malcolm promised to perform an isotopic analysis to determine the direction based on their dissolving warp signature. As they left the command center they nearly stumbled over Hoshi outside.

"Excuse me," she let the captain go by. As Malcolm passed her, she touched his arm. "When you get a chance, stop by and see me. We didn't finish our discussion this morning."

"Of course," he agreed, thinking that Andie's musical tastes were the last thing on his mind. "As soon as I've a moment free."

She nodded and watched him follow the captain with a grimace on her face. Ever since she told him that she thought she saw somebody watching her during their mission in the Expanse, he hadn't taken her seriously about important matters. Shrugging, she wondered if he ever really had. That was Malcolm for you, she thought. He never really believed that anybody could take care of themselves without him. She returned to her station on the bridge.

* * *

"Take it!" Malcolm offered her a phase pistol as they stood outside the brig. "You might need to shoot one in the arse," he sneered.

"If I should need to shoot one in the ass," Andie told him, "there's no room inside the brig to do so. They would take my weapon and stage a coup, and you would have to round them up all over again." She smiled a nasty smile. "Of course, I'd be in there and couldn't do your job for you, so..." She left the rest unsaid, taking sadistic pride in the way he bristled.

"I'll be watching you," he growled.

Nerves were making her edgy and several inappropriate jokes leaped to mind, but she stifled them. Now was not the time to be making an enemy out of the security officer.

"I'll be fine," she told him. They entered the brig.

"Klingons prefer to suffer their wounds," T'Pol interjected. "They may not want medical attention." She was keeping an eye on the four aliens divided between two cells.

"I'm aware of that," Andie replied. "I'll be fine," she repeated again, ignoring the clammy feeling in her palms.

Reed led her to the first cell. "We'll be out here if you need anything."

"Don't be afraid to use a stun grenade to subdue them," she told him. "I'll recover just fine."

"I won't hesitate if it comes to that," he told with a smirk.

"You mean, you'll be hoping it doesn't come to that?" she corrected with a stern look in her eye.

"Oh, I'll be hoping it does," he told her with a twinkle as he allowed her entry into the cell. He flicked on the comm, and Andie had no illusions that Hoshi was listening to the whole thing on the bridge.

Once the door was locked, Reed stood with a rifle at the ready, along with another MACO. T'Pol waited by the door controls in case the doctor needed a swift exit. Andie set down her bag and prepared to work.

She pushed a stool forward with her foot as she felt the furious gaze of four angry Klingons. It wasn't really that different from her interactions with the captain, she thought grimly. She introduced herself in their native language and gestured at one to come forward and sit on the stool.

He shook his head. She repeated her command.

Up on the bridge, Hoshi translated out loud for Archer. "She says, I've been instructed to tend your wounds. Whether or not you're awake when I do it is up to you." Archer frowned.

"Come back when I'm asleep," the Klingon laughed at her.

"Who says I'll wait that long," Andie smiled coolly. She pulled a stun grenade from her pocket and Reed jerked his rifle higher. "Of course, what I do when you're asleep is another matter. I might break more than your nose."

The second Klingon jerked his head at the first. Obviously they hadn't talked about their wounds, but the others found it appalling that this female would best a Klingon. He was slapped in the head by the second.

"I might take some pictures to send back to the High Council," she went on, the steely amusement never leaving her eyes. That threat got a reaction.

"Don't!" one of them stuttered.

She nudged the stool with her foot. The second Klingon, the one who protested, shoved the first one closer to Andie. This was the Klingon she'd attacked in Engineering.

Sitting down, his face was at eye level. Ignoring the stench, Andie ran a scanner over his form and took his nose in her hands, yanking the broken bone into place and disregarded the grunts of discomfort coming from her patient. She applied two strips across his nose. _"Leave those there for a week and you'll be as pretty as you ever were,_" she told him. He growled and got up.

Waving a scanner at the other, she indicated that he should step up. He cursed her for thinking he was a cowardly dog who needed attention. Andie smiled pleasantly and noted that he was the one refusing to come near her. The slur implied at his bravery brought him striding toward her. She never flinched, even as he towered over her and roared. Reed's grip tightened on the rifle. Andie pointed at the stool until he sat.

"_Do you know what happens to a broken rib?"_ she asked him, pulling a long needle from the bag beside her. "_It punctures your lung and you gasp for air like a fish out of water until you fall down from climbing a set of stairs. Is that how you want to die? This is going to hurt." _Inserting the needle into his ribs, she pumped a calcium paste into the wound and withdrew it quickly. "_That paste will need at least two days to set. In forty-eight hours you won't know you were ever injured_." She absently thumbed a medal pinned on his tunic as she ran a scanner over his wound.

Black pools of hate regarded her. "_You speak Klingon very well_," he told her. "_Where did you learn to speak it?_

"_If I were you I would have chosen someone stronger to send to Engineering_," she told him, ignoring the inquiry. "_Before he was brought down, he was bragging to tell of the prisoners. Now that we know their location, we can set them free." _She nodded at his medal._ "You're the son of a general. You should have been the one to take the dangerous assignment."_

"_I told them nothing, Durmak!" _screeched the Klingon with the broken nose. "_She's lying!"_

"_Shut up, Dhortak_!" Durmak shouted.

Andie looked on. _"Discommendated?"_ she inquired so softly the security cameras wouldn't pick it up.

Durmak looked at her. _"No,"_ he grunted. _"Forgotten."_

"_There are better ways to retrieve your honor,"_ she told him in that same low voice. "_Just ask your father."_

He scowled at her until she indicated that he could rise. Picking up her things, she backed out of the cage and performed medical tasks in the other cell. One had a broken wrist and the fourth was not seriously injured although she checked him out thoroughly.

"We're done here," she told Reed, backing out of the second cell. There had been little to no conversation there.

"Did you find out anything useful?" Reed inquired in his customary icy tones.

"They are too young to be members of the High Council," she told him. "There is a muddy residue on their boots, and they all have a minor incidence of radiation poisoning." She held up a vial with the sample of mud from their boots, and when Reed tried to take it she held it fast.

"They also said to follow the white rabbit, Alice," she smirked. Brushing past him she went to Sickbay, taking her vial with her.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" he grouched.


	18. Chapter 18

"There was no mention of a white rabbit," Hoshi told Malcolm while they worked on the bridge. "I think she was just pulling your leg." She stifled a smile. Malcolm was an easy mark for a joke, but he didn't seem to be in a good humor today.

"I don't like practical jokes," he frowned, tapping a few more keys at his console. The warp trail was finally coming through. He sent the information to the Command Center and let the captain know.

"They seem to be traveling to a small planetoid," he commented out loud.

Mayweather checked his readings. "Should I make a course correction, Lieutenant?"

"I think the captain can make that call, Ensign," he replied easily. This world where the chain of command was easily discernible was soothing to his nerves. He received confirmation from the Captain and instructed Mayweather to change course.

* * *

In the Command Center, Archer was looking over the information collected by the science team. T'Pol related the information gleaned from the scrap of clay Andie had filched from the Klingon boot. It came from a planet a few light years away.

"There are fewer than one million life signs over the entire planet, most gathered together in small cities with ports for space craft to land on the surface. Although they have made some advances in warp technology their primary industry seems to be pre-industrialized. They seem to expend most of their resources tending livestock."

"Livestock?" Archer repeated. "What do Klingons want with livestock?"

"I believe it is the mineral components of the planet that would interest the Klingons," T'Pol replied. Pressing a button she brought up a picture of a familiar element.

"This planet has a supply of Dilithium crystals?" That would definitely be a reason why the Klingons were interested. Naturally occurring Dilithium was hard to come by and any native supply would be very valuable.

"There seem to be a few pockets of the Dilithium, but there does not appear to be any attempt to mine the mineral at all. It would not be profitable; the pockets of mineral are small and would be completely depleted in a few years time."

"So the Klingons think they can swoop in and take it all for themselves," Archer deduced.

"That would seem to be the case," T'Pol agreed. "In this section here," she pointed out a location nearby, "there are two life signs for every one hundred animals. Yet in this sector here," she brought up another schematic, "there do not appear to be any life signs at all, only a few random herds. This is where the sensors indicate the largest pockets of Dilithium."

"That's where the Klingons have started their invasion." Archer studied the screen.

T'Pol turned to the captain. "I do not believe that the Klingon Empire has begun an invasion of this territory. There are too few ships to indicate a full scale war." She brought a wider version of the planet's surface to the screen. "There are only two ships on the far side of the planet. They are both small vessels, most likely scout ships. They each carry a maximum crew of twelve."

"We need to determine if these people need help before we barge in on them," Archer decided. "There's no sense in attempting a rescue if they don't need to be rescued."

"That would be a proper course of action," T'Pol agreed.

"Let's assemble a landing party," he sighed.

"If there is trouble down on the surface, it may be suitable to send a doctor." T'Pol was calm as she eyed Archer. He wasn't going to like this idea. "Hostages may require medical aid."

He looked at her. "I have a bad feeling that you're going to suggest something I'm not going to like."

"It is certain you won't be the only person upset with this idea."

* * *

"Sir," Malcolm objected quicker this time. "I hardly think she's the one..."

"She's proven herself to be capable, Lieutenant! She can provide medical care and she can take care of herself, if the reports I'm reading are correct." He gestured at a pile of datapads explaining the incident that occurred earlier that littered the console at the rear of the bridge.

Malcolm clenched his jaw shut and made no more protests. The captain only referred to him as Lieutenant when there was no more to be said.

"Is that going to be a problem, Lieutenant?" Archer asked quietly, watching the man usually so calm and collected struggle to bring himself in control.

"She is not ready for an armed mission, sir," Malcolm uttered through clenched teeth.

"I believe that she is," he replied, handing Malcolm a data pad with the results of Doctor Brainerd's phase pistol certification, as reported by Sergeant Chang. "He took her through her paces this morning after he was released from Sickbay."

Malcolm ground his jaws together. He couldn't refuse to accept Chang's report; Chang was a good officer. It galled him, however, that someone else had accomplished his mission. That never sat well with him. He glanced at the results on the padd. She scored much higher than he thought she would. He pursed his lips as he remembered the way she fired her pistol with her eyes squeezed shut. Either he was a bad teacher, which he thought impossible, or she was pulling his leg. Neither choice was appetizing.

"I'll see that she gets ready," was his only response.

Captain Archer nodded. "Dismissed." The armory officer set off to prepare for a landing party.

* * *

Andie was even less pleased about the assignment than Reed, if that was possible.

"You don't really need me down there," she argued as she followed him through the corridors to his cabin to feed Porthos. The poor beagle had missed his breakfast in the wake of the disaster of a morning. "I'm needed here, to assist in Sickbay. I haven't even found my cat, and I know you hate it when he runs loose." Her voice pleaded with Jon to leave her behind.

He pushed the button to open his door. "I really feel that you have something to contribute down there. The landing party could use your experienced Klingon language skills." He stepped inside. "Besides, you don't have to look for your cat anymore."

His voice sounded strange. Setting one foot inside his cabin, Andie understood the tone. Porthos and Napoleon were both snuggled together on the captain's bed. One of the beagle's ears actually lay over the top of the small orange head.

"How the hell did he get in here?" Both humans asked the question at the same time.

Two sets of whiskers trembled as both culprits remained silent. Their faces seemed to relax in similar smiles as they pretended to sleep. Humans could be so silly, they both thought.

* * *

As a last minute precaution, they senior staff arranged themselves around the console at the rear of the bridge for one final meeting. Andie had been more than reluctant to join them on the away team, but Malcolm had explained that the captain had commanded her presence. She agreed grudgingly, after assuring that Malcolm was agreeable to her presence.

She agreed until he brought her a phase pistol while they waited for Archer to arrive. "There are two settings: stun and kill. Just aim and pull the trigger. I'll leave it set to stun, in case you get into trouble. I am aware that you know how to use one." He offered the gun, and its accompanying holster.

"No." She refused to take it.

"Doctor, you can't go down to the planet's surface unarmed. You need to be able to defend yourself." He held out the gun.

"I won't take it." She stared straight into his face, her chin jutting out in a mulish gesture.

Malcolm leaned in. "I know you are uncomfortable with weapons, but the captain has insisted that you join this landing party. You can't go down there unarmed."

"Then I won't go."

"The captain commands you to go."

"Then the captain can suck it."

Malcolm blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I will not carry that weapon. It just won't happen." She was very adamant.

"You can't remain defenseless!" The decibel of their argument was growing.

"I can take care of myself! I don't need a gun!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"You do!"

"I don't!"

"Do!"

"Don't!"

"Is there a problem here?" Captain Archer did not look pleased as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His new doctor and his tactical officer stood nose to nose creating quite a scene.

"No problem," Andie quipped with a tense smile.

"She refuses to take the phase pistol, Captain. She can't go down there unarmed!" Malcolm glared at Andie. "Even if she thinks she's the heavy weight champion of the world," he added under his breath.

Dark eyes glared at him, even as she turned to the captain. "I don't need a gun. I'm only there to provide aid in case of emergency." She was dressed in heavy gray pants and a matching quilted Starfleet jacket. Under it she wore a black turtleneck sweater and heavy boots adorned her feet. She carried a silver box with medical supplies, and there was another box just like it waiting in the shuttle pod. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she looked ready to take on the mission at hand. She only appeared unprepared to carry a sidearm.

"You realize that there is probably a camp full of Klingons down there?" Archer cautioned. "They may attack you and you may be called upon to return their fire?" His green eyes were fierce under his knitted brows.

"Yes, sir," she answered. She surprised both men with her polite regulation answer.

"Then you will carry a weapon."

She looked at him with wide eyes. Her lips pursed together and Malcolm thought she looked like she was about to kick some of that ass she was always threatening. For a moment, he wondered who would win: Archer or Andie.

"Permission to speak privately, captain?" Her voice was steady and low.

"Anything you need to say may be spoken in front of this crew."

Looking around at the two commanders and the lieutenant, she shifted uncomfortably. There were no other options though, so she began to speak.

"I've been watching the brig from a security monitor and I don't believe these Klingons are dangerous. I think they're just young and reckless."

"What makes you think so?" Archer asked, irritation making his tone short. She should have brought this up earlier.

"Klingon warriors wear a badge, indicating their warrior house and their battle deeds. It tells other Klingons that this warrior is a force to be reckoned with. These Klingons in our brig do not carry this badge."

"Perhaps they lost them in another battle," Archer sighed. "Maybe they aren't good warriors."

"If they were not good warriors, their fathers would have killed them," she told him with certainty. "Warriors who lose their family crest would be considered without honor, like forgetting the name of their father. They would be banished."

"You think these Klingons have been banished?" He didn't know what to think. Her timing in imparting this information might seem a bit coincidental.

"I think they're young," she told him. "I think that a call home to their fathers might prove more beneficial than provoking an attack."

"I'll keep that in mind," Archer told her. "Now pick up a pistol and get on that shuttle." Green eyes glittered dangerously. He was determined that she submit to his authority.

"Lieutenant Reed is a good man, captain," she surprised them all by saying. "He is an excellent tactical officer and you rely on his expertise and experience all the time."

"Yes," the captain nodded impatiently. "He's a fine officer." He waved his hand in a circle to get her to hurry up.

"Don't you trust the instincts of your own officer, captain?" Andie studied him carefully. She was pleading with him now. "I defer to his experience. If he felt that I was not ready to carry a sidearm, then I have to believe that he was correct. He should be commended for his caution." She paused a moment. "Please?"

Malcolm was almost flattered until he realized she was just using another tactic at her reach. By throwing in his adequacy, it would be difficult for Archer to argue against it without undermining his security officer. He flashed a commiserating look at the taller man, hoping to reassure him that he was not to worry about the lieutenant's feelings.

"I don't want you to be defenseless!" Archer argued.

"I am not defenseless," she countered. "I can take care of myself," she added pointedly.

"I could order you to take a weapon," he threatened. This sort of threat had worked well for him in the past.

Andie's lips thinned. She forced her jaw to relax. "I'll be carrying two heavy medical cases, Captain. Even if there was a problem, I wouldn't be free to do anything about it."

The captain huffed silently. He'd heard from Admiral Gardiner that she was tough and hard-headed. Even after they had run several scans of the planet, the only indication of Klingon presence were the two small ships in orbit. He wasn't sure that he really expected to find anything to worry about down there, but he would rather not leave her behind if she could be of assistance.

"You'll take a phase pistol," he told her firmly. "Although I want you to stick close to Malcolm and the MACO's," he cautioned her, and watched her face fall. "If something happens, they'll take care of the fighting. You don't have any problems carrying a communicator, do you?" His sarcasm stung.

"No, sir," she responded despondently. He indicated that she should turn around and exit the room.

"Be careful," he commanded.

"I'm always careful," she sighed. She may have lost the battle, but it hadn't diminished her spirit one bit. Catching his eye, she forced a quick smile and a saucy wink to emphasize her belief in her own abilities.

Archer was not relieved. He made a note to check on the signs of the apocalypse. He was pretty sure that happened when dogs lay down with cats. If that was true, they were all doomed.

* * *

Trip accompanied her to the launch bay. "You know there's a difference between teasing the captain and tormenting him. You're crossing a fine line," he told her.

"I do seem to rub him the wrong way," she commented as they turned a corner.

"I think you're provoking him and I think you need to knock it off," he told her firmly.

"It's just..." her voice trailed off as they stepped into a turbo-lift.

"Just what?" he prompted when she didn't go on.

Her dark gray eyes seemed weighed down by something, but instead of talking about it, she shrugged her shoulders negligently. "I just don't like guns."

"They do seem to be a necessary part of life in space though," he replied.

"Don't I know it," she muttered under her breath.

Glancing at her, Trip thought about his first few months in space. He'd had the same reaction when he'd first entered into space travel. Everyone on board had expected the rest of civilization to be as understanding and advanced as Earth had worked hard to become, and it was quite a shock when they had been less progressive.

"Here, let me." Trip reached down to take the heavy medical case from her hand, and she smoothly swung it into the hand that was farthest from his reach.

"How're you ribs?" she asked pointedly without missing a step. She had tended his bruises inflicted by the Klingon warrior in Engineering and had first hand knowledge of his pain.

"They're fine," he replied, knowing that she wouldn't be as easily moved by his pronouncement.

"The tape is still holding them in place?" She waited until he nodded before going on. "You haven't been over-exerting yourself to repair the port nacelle?"

"T'Pol and Phlox have both been cautioning me on keeping my health in mind," he grumbled irritably.

"So you've thrown off the advice from your scientific colleague and two superior medical analysts for your own advice?" she inquired easily. That arching eyebrow spoke much more firmly and she peered at him from the side. "I'd like to witness your medical degree." Her mocking tone brought a scowl to his face.

"The ship needs repairs and I need to do my job!" he insisted.

She grunted in response. "Can't do your job if I've tied you to a med-bed, can you?" she teased. Stopping outside the launch bay, she looked him fully in the eye. "If you're not careful, I might do exactly that when I get back."

"You can't do that!" he objected.

"Really?" she grinned impishly. "You think I can't or won't?" Handing off the heavy case to an ensign packing the shuttle, she patted Trip on the arm. "Be sure and take care of your injury. It won't do you any good to refuse the advice of medical professionals out here in space."

"Don't I know it," he muttered under his breath, scowling at her back as she stepped carefully down the steep stairs.

* * *

Hoshi walked with Malcolm through the corridors. "Take it easy on Andie," she cautioned him as they turned a corner.

"Take it easy on her?" he repeated. "That battle-axe isn't swayed by anything resembling kindness or reason!"

"I think she's just reacting so strongly because you make her nervous," Hoshi replied.

"I make her nervous?" he erupted, color infusing his face.

"Excessive nerves might explain how she happened to shoot you during target practice," Hoshi mentioned gently, hoping that by referencing the incident that she wouldn't be provoking another unusual outburst of temper from the normally stoic man.

"Her inability to control herself explains that incident sufficiently," he snapped.

"Just keep an eye on her," Hoshi cautioned again. "It's her first assault mission. It's better that she remains predictable." She opened her mouth as though to speak but changed her mind and snapped her jaw shut. There would be time later to give Reed the uncomfortable news.

"Be careful, Lieutenant," she cautioned, as she stepped back and let him pass ahead of her into the Launch Bay.

"I'll see you soon," he told her, his stormy eyes already focused on the mission ahead.

* * *

He couldn't help thinking about her words as he sat in the shuttle with two MACO's while Commander T'Pol took the helm and flew them through the atmosphere to the pre-arranged landing site.

Andie Brainerd sat in her chair at the rear of the shuttle, absently peering out the window. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest and she didn't appear to be absorbing any of the idle conversation that drifted through the small room.

"Hey, Doc!" One of the MACO's intruded on the quiet woman. "How soon before Corporal Green gets out of bed?" Corporal Green was the young MACO that had been thrown against the wall in Engineering. His head wound bled profusely, but neither she nor Phlox believed him to have incurred a concussion. They were keeping an eye on him overnight just to be sure.

"He'll be released tomorrow," she told them. "He only sustained a minor whack to the head."

"You don't talk like a doctor," the first MACO mentioned dubiously. His nametag read 'Romero."

"Yeah, Doctors were never that pretty when I went through basic training," the other grinned. He was a tall, bald man with dark chocolate skin and a New Jersey accent. His nametag read 'Woods."

"It's possible the pretty ones saw you coming and left the room for fear of the competition," she teased.

Reed stiffened. This conversation was inappropriate. "I'd like to think that you were too busy learning to do your job than to chase girls around the hospital when they had better things to do than fend off advances from you," he added sharply to the bald man.

Wood's teasing smile faded and he sat up straighter. "Sorry, sir," he acknowledged the quiet rebuke. "Sorry, too, ma'am," he added to Andie.

"If I told you that someone suffered a minor myocardial infarction with elevated levels of isotonic..." her voice trailed off with a grin. "You've already fallen asleep," she teased. "If I tell you that patient had a heart attack, then that gets the point across." She noticed Reed's frown at her casual conversation and turned her head to the window again, the grin fading quickly from her face. This time he noticed she closed her eyes.

After glaring at the MACO's until they turned their heads to face forward, Malcolm studied her silently. Her demeanor was relaxed. Her head tilted back and her breathing was even. She looked extremely peaceful and not at all nervous.

He probably would have dismissed Hoshi's warnings if he hadn't noticed the white knuckles.

Her arms were crossed in front of her and her fists were balled up and tucked into the curve of her arms. Only one was visible and the skin over her knuckles were pulled so tight he thought it likely that the skin might tear like paper over the sharply jutting points. Taking further interest, he thought that her breathing was actually _too _even, as though she was working hard to take each breath in and out without giving away her unease.

She was scared.

There was no reason why her unease should make him feel better but it did. It should have made him more nervous, wondering what unpredictable trouble fear could get her into, but the idea that the stalwart doctor was actually a bit fragile made him relax.

At least she seemed to be aware of the trouble she was in. He leaned back and closed his own eyes as T'Pol skillfully landed the small craft.


	19. Chapter 19

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Author's Note: Thanks to firebirdgirl for the reviews! I hope I can live up to your expectations!

* * *

They landed as the sun was dropping beyond the horizon and the landing party tucked the shuttle under a scraggly copse of trees just as the setting sun turned the landscape to a fiery red. The landscape was covered with softly rolling hills dotted with rock formations. Their present location set them down next to a sheer jutting drop off, as the world just melted away into nothing but panoramic beauty.

Exiting the shuttle, T'Pol took readings from a scanner to get their bearings. She had difficulty getting a solid signal from the handheld device and she stood to one side making small adjustments to the machine.

Darkness crept around them now that the sun couldn't be seen. Andie took a moment when they paused to stand on the outskirts of their staging area and gaze into the dusk beyond the low light with her eyes closed, a half smile playing on her face at the simple joy of fresh air and an amazing view. A breeze rustled past and she zipped up her jacket. Up ahead, Corporal Woods slipped through the black night air to scout out the voices they heard up ahead. Andie sipped from her thermos, and caught Malcolm watching her.

"You forgot something," he mentioned sourly to Andie.

Turning, her pleasant expression evaporated when she saw what he held in his hand. "Thanks," she answered shortly, fastening the offensive phase pistol against her hip. The procedure proved to be too difficult with the open thermos in her hand and she absently pressed it into Malcolm's grip as she tended to her gear. He couldn't resist sniffing the contents, certain he would find traces of alcoholic substance inside. Instead there was nothing but a woodsy smell, and he frowned.

Malcolm noticed her watching his inspection of her thermos with a jaded eye and whispered softly to her, "Did it ever occur to you that you put the entire landing party at risk by refusing to carry a weapon?" His tone was mild, but unforgiving.

She turned her head to look at him, guilt written on her face. It hadn't crossed her mind.

He went on. "What if we were all rendered helpless except for you? What would you do then?"

Andie snorted. "What are the odds that you'll all be taken and I'll remain free?"

Malcolm smirked. "If I were superstitious, I'd say you just cursed us," he teased.

"I don't believe in curses," she told him. She watched him eye the contents of her thermos again. "Go ahead, Lieutenant. It's a cool evening and the contents _probably_ won't kill you." Her offer mocked him. He took a quick sip.

"Zeriphean tea?" he wondered out loud. "Do you ever drink anything that doesn't contain more than its share of caffeine?"

"Hell, no!" she disagreed with forced easiness. "I like the rush!" After a small pause she added, "This place gives me the creeps."

Malcolm looked around. Softly rolling hills to their right were dotted with white boulders. Across a smooth carpet of grass to their left, the land gave way to a steep decline. He took a few steps to stand at the edge of the precipice and study the panoramic landscape. "This location reminds me of Ireland," he mused. If the grass was green instead of aquamarine he could easily feel at home.

Andie stood beside him and looked over the deep canyon below. The light was fading quickly as the small orange sun drifted away. She screwed the cap back on her thermos and tucked it away in one of her packs. A line of worry etched a line in at the bridge of her nose.

"This should be a simple exercise," he soothed her. "We're only here to determine if the native people are being held against their will."

"I guess it doesn't matter that part of your landing party is here against _her_ will?" Andie threw the words at him in an attempt to cover her unease by provoking a fight.

"It doesn't matter a bit," he nodded, struggling to contain the grin. His humor was well hidden; she wasn't even looking at him, but running her own scanner over the empty canyon air.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He didn't really mind; the more information they carried about the landscape, the better their chances of survival. He was curious if she was scanning the area for a particular reason. It occurred to him that she might not have the skills necessary to survive in this rugged setting. Her answer didn't inspire confidence.

"I don't know. Just killing time I guess." Pocketing the scanner she looked more troubled than before. Before he could ask her about it, T'Pol called everyone together to discuss further plans.

* * *

"Captain?" Hoshi looked up from her communications panel. "We seem to have lost contact with the shuttle pod."

"What do you mean we lost contact?" he groused. Frowning, he moved across the room to peer at her screen.

"As soon as they passed through the atmosphere, it fell off of sensor readings. I'm not picking up any signs of life on the planet. Everything is exactly the same as it was this morning when we first scanned it. There have been no variations, not even to account for the shuttle pod landing on the surface."

"The readings are exactly the same?" Archer had a bad feeling. He turned to both tactical and science stations. "Can we get a transporter lock on the landing party?"

Both Ensigns shook their heads in response to his query. If the readings were exactly the same that meant that none of the readings were accurate. It was the perfect device to fool ships in orbit into landing on the planet.

"They've thrown up a smoke screen," Archer decided with frustration. He glared in Hoshi's direction, but she was only partly sure it wasn't directed at her personally. "Hail the landing party again! Get them back up here!"

"Aye, sir," she murmured, pushing the buttons that would connect her to the group on the ground. It would seem they were in trouble and didn't even know it yet.

* * *

They found themselves moving through the darkness, with T'Pol and Romero leading the way, Woods picking up the middle and Malcolm flanking Andie to make sure she didn't get into any more trouble. They stopped near a neat pile of boulders and Reed remained behind as the MACO's moved ahead to scout out the terrain.

"You seem nervous," he mentioned again as she set her heavy medical case down with relief.

"It's creepy down here," she told him again, irritation and exercise making her answer short.

"Why didn't you say something while you were on board? Archer may have let you out of this," he wondered, complementing himself on resisting his natural impulse to take the case from her. His father had drilled common courtesies into his head and they were hard to get rid of. He ignored the fact that Archer had been adamant when he told Reed that the woman would be joining them.

"It didn't feel creepy until I got down here," she defended. "Archer would not have let me out of this," she asserted with a snort. Her tone grew pensive. "The captives on the ship talked about being successful at something, and yet their ship left them. Does that sound successful?" She chewed on her lower lip.

"Maybe you misinterpreted something they said," he suggested. "Perhaps your mysterious knowledge of Klingon is flawed." His tone carried more bite than he intended.

"Now you don't believe I know anything about Klingons?" she retorted tiredly.

"You told me you didn't know how to fire a phase pistol, but your scores say otherwise."

His knowledge of her phase pistol certification shouldn't have surprised her but it did. He wasn't the kind of officer to let anything slide. He would be the kind that kept on top of all developments. That made him more dangerous than any other officer she'd served with. "That was your misinterpretation," she corrected him. "I told you I knew how to take care of myself just fine!"

"Yet you refuse to carry a weapon," he pointed out.

"I don't..." she started to protest vehemently, but stopped to take a deep breath. "I'm a healer." Her voice sounded awkward, as though she didn't believe her own assertion. The nuance was lost on Malcolm.

"Not a killer like me," he filled in bitterly.

Andie flung a curious gaze in his direction. "That's an interesting description of your job," she told him. "Is that Starfleet's new recruitment policy?" A wicked smile fought its way across her face. "Welcome to Starfleet, now let's go shoot something?"

The tight line of his jaw indicated that Malcolm didn't find anything funny with her teasing words, and they might have continued antagonizing each other, but Woods returned from his recon.

The human female rested her back against a rock, near the edge of the cliff and sighed with relief. Reed had to admire her tenacity even if he didn't like her unpredictable attitude. She had never complained or fallen behind as she struggled with her equipment. Satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere now, he moved forward to confer with T'Pol.

"There's something you should see," the Vulcan noted, indicating that they should peer over the top of the boulder in front of her.

Malcolm crept with her to the edge of the rock and witnessed for himself the three Klingons sitting around a campfire in the chill of the evening. They seemed to be eating and drinking and unaware of the watchers.

Showing him the results from her scan, T'Pol whispered to Reed. "There are two more hiding in the shadows." Her finger gently indicated the direction on the far side of their camp.

"What are they waiting for?" he wondered.

"I believe they are waiting for us. I have been unable to reach Enterprise since we landed."

"You think they've set a trap?" Mentally he reviewed a list of options at their disposal, a cold feeling pooling into a hard knot in his stomach.

"I believe they have," she noted. Reed and T'Pol were so intent on judging the threat of the aliens that they were taken completely unaware by the ruse perpetrated by the sixth Klingon scout.

Moving faster than humans gave them credit for, two meaty fists reached up from their hidden space below the jutting rock and pulled one Vulcan and one human into view of the firelight. Reed and T'Pol landed with a groan and neither had time to draw their weapons before a seventh Klingon stepped in to take deadly aim with his disruptor pistol. The MACO's didn't hesitate to prop their rifles against their shoulder and fire the non-lethal weapons at the attackers, but the two warriors rose from their seats at the edge of the campfire and discharged their own less compassionate weaponry at the well-trained men. The Klingons hiding in the shadows came forward and after a short round of hand to hand combat, the MACO's joined the other two at the wrong end of an enemy weapon.

One Klingon left the fire and crept around the boulder cautiously, checking for any other survivors. Malcolm felt the muscles in his neck tense as he waited for a scream or a cry that would indicate the doctor would soon join them. Instead there was only silence. Returning the Klingon tossed a silver case into the firelight and made guttural grunts to his companions before gesturing at the prisoners and indicating they should move out. The humans and Vulcan were dragged to their feet and their hands secured behind their backs and forced to move closer to the main activity in the region.

The four exchanged glances. What had happened to Andie? They all had their own ideas. She had been standing next to a cliff, Woods worried that she might have fallen. She was untrained for dangerous work, Romero wondered if she'd fled at the first sign of trouble. T'Pol knew that Doctor Brainerd had been adamant about not carrying a weapon. Perhaps she hid so that she could call in reinforcements later. Reed was not so generous. That woman was a curse on all their necks, and he just knew that she was somewhere, not far away, trying her best to make trouble, if she wasn't dead already.

In their own ways, they were all correct.

* * *

Tensions grew higher on the bridge of the orbiting ship.

"Any luck?" Archer asked hopefully, ignoring the flash of irritation in Hoshi's eyes. He'd been asking the same question several times over and each time she shook her head in the negative.

"Keep listening!" he commanded in a low bark.

"Captain!" Ensign Burrows commanded his leader's attention. "I'm picking up two ships approaching!"

"The Klingons have returned," Jon bit out.

"There are _two_ scout ships, sir," he added. "They are coming in from alternate directions!"

"They brought reinforcements," Mayweather breathed.

"They plan to crush us between them," the captain snarled. "Evasive maneuvers, Travis!"

"Aye, sir!"

As the two ships closed quickly on either side of Enterprise, Travis took a steep turn that bought them some time. Each member of the bridge crew held their breath and tried not to worry about their lost crewmen as they used every tactic they could think of to evade the predators that had set a trap.

Archer stood firm next to the captain's chair. His jaw flexed with anger that he should have to watch his crew separated from him again, only this time they weren't relying on their own survival skills in a snowy wasteland; they were heading into a sophisticated snare. That was a sore point.

He hadn't even seen it coming. That point was the sorest of them all.

* * *

Andie pulled her body over the lip of the canyon and stared around at a space that had been so lively just moments before. Now there was darkness and the only sound that penetrated the quiet was the steady munching of the livestock. An animal that looked like a cross between a shaggy horse and a hippopotamus stood peering through a forelock that tumbled over its eyes as it chewed thoughtfully.

"I was just down there for a minute!" she whispered agitatedly. "Where'd everybody go?"

The beast looked at her and chewed wetly. In the distance another creature lowed softly. From the direction to her left, the sounds of raucous laughter could be faintly heard. Frowning, she pulled her communicator from her shoulder pocket.

"Andie to Enterprise," she spoke into the device. There was no answer, only silence. "Andie to Enterprise, come in!" she repeated. "Hoshi?" There was no answering voice on the other end. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts as she disembarked from the shuttle she had failed to hear the warnings from the Vulcan commander about the interference with the comm. channels. It seemed they were cut off from everything down here.

There was nobody coming to save them. There was no hope for her friends. The only chance they had rested in her hands.

"We're screwed," she muttered. She looked at the beast, who continued chewing his cud, staring at her with enormous brown eyes.

She sighed deeply. "Who do you think's going to kill me first: Archer or Reed?"

The beast seemed to consider the question. Arching its neck, it rubbed its head on its right flank. An eyebrow twitched.

"Yeah, that's what I figured," she snorted.

Having no other choices, Andie set her pack on the ground and pulled a small device from the very bottom. It had been packed in thick fabric to keep it from getting crushed, and the cover also helped hide its presence. Holding it carefully to her eyes, she scanned the landscape, using the green lights of night vision to get a more accurate glimpse of the land. Pulling her pack firmly on her back, she slipped back over the edge of the steep incline, holding her body rigid as she slid down the slope like a surfer riding the waves. It was time to get to work.

At least now she didn't have to worry about Starfleet looking over her shoulder.


	20. Chapter 20

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

The entrance to the dilithium mine was a naturally occurring cavern. Before the small Klingon occupation, it had probably been used for shelter from inclement weather, or historical study of the drawings on the walls. Now it was lined with rubble and lit by portable generators running a stream of lights through walls that had been obliterated by progress further into the mine.

Led through the chambers by rough hands, the humans and the Vulcan stumbled through rooms full of natives. They were tall and slender, with wide brown eyes and tiny slits for noses. Small nubs at their temples gave them a goat-like appearance. Each one worked with a shovel or axe to dig the glittering mineral out of the cave walls. None of the native aliens seemed to be bound; they appeared to be working freely if not willingly for the marauders. Risking small glances at the newcomers, they returned to their work and said nothing.

Guided roughly through the chilly dim light, the Enterprise crewmen were shoved into the farthest corner of the cave. Here at the very back the Klingons had set up a command center. Around a corner lacking the tell-tale glitter of dilithium buried inside the walls, rested three iron cages. T'Pol was quick to note that they bore a better-than-passing resemblance to an Orion cage, in which she had recently been housed. She exchanged a significant look with Reed before the men were shoved into two of the cages.

One of the Klingon guards released her hands from behind her back only to tie them in front of her. While the others were incarcerated, it was made clear that she would work in the mines, releasing the dilithium ore from its resting place. It was also made clear that any naughtiness on her part would result in bad things for her friends.

Communicating her unease to her crewmen silently, she took the shovel they offered and was led around the corner to work with the group of natives. She looked at the goat-like person next to her and nodded a greeting. Suspicion gave way to resignation as the tall creature returned her nod. They earned a sharp bark from their guard and both went to work dutifully. T'Pol swung her shovel apathetically against the wall with as she glanced surreptitiously around to seek another way out.

After T'Pol was taken away, Reed exchanged brief whispers with the MACO's indicating that they should not try anything heroic that might injure the innocents around them. Sighing in frustration, they resigned themselves to sitting in this cool, dark corner until an opportunity presented itself. Woods attended to the rather severe burn Romero had received from the altercation that brought him too close to the campfire just before they surrendered to the Klingons.

Malcolm turned his head around in the spacious cage he had to himself. Peering through the darkness, he tried in vain to make out the features of the cave, hoping to see a plan for escape in the rough walls. Forcing his mind to veer away from the fear that Andie Brainerd, pampered daughter of Earth's most prominent physician, was lost on a colony filled with cruel captors, Reed brushed a lock of hair back from his face. In a moment, he had to brush it away again. There was a slight breeze that kept drawing the errant lock forward. Reed grew contemplative. Where there was a breeze, there was an opening in the cave. All he had to do now was get out of this cage, release his friends and find it.

* * *

She found it without much trouble. The small lip of earth that stopped her reckless slide before plummeting nearly straight down for hundreds of meters was covered with leafy bushes. Those outreaching aquamarine arms made the perfect shelter for the anomalous readings she'd been picking up on her scanner. Hiding in the bushes, she took more accurate scans.

Standing this close, she could see it now; a small structure the same color on the outside as the shrubbery that hid it. It blended into the rock wall behind it, even bathed as it was now in moonlight. Above her she could hear the hairy creature baying quietly, apparently missing its new human companion. She cursed its presence because it brought the lone Klingon scout to the door with a raised disruptor.

In actuality the beast provided excellent cover. Her slide down the hill hadn't been quiet, and the sentry had been watching for movement on the ground. Hearing the creature above made the Klingon spout muttered curses about those stupid things falling down the cliffs in an attempt to get closer to the Klingons as they set up this communications array. The noise he'd heard was blamed on those creatures and the scout went back inside.

This location was an excellent choice. Hidden from the flat land above by leafy vegetation, yet afforded a clear view of most of the sky and the deep valleys below offered an unobstructed range for transmission of the signal that was jamming all sensor and communications from above. Turning her head, Andie could see the same slippery shale covered slope led up to a mountain peak. Since it was the most prominent feature in the landscape she'd covered so far, she assumed that it was hiding the precious dilithium mineral.

First, she needed to take care of this communications array. Second, she needed to remove her crew from harms' way. Third, they needed to return to their ship, or at least warn them of the danger down below. Now that she had a plan, she moved quickly.

Shrugging out of her portable med-kit, the one she always carried around on the ship, although packed with some more useful things for this mission, she pulled three canisters out. Working quickly through fingers growing stiff with the cold, she emptied her tea onto the ground and used the empty thermos to hold an amount of each solution that she dropped inside. It started to foam and spew smoke. Slipping to the door in a crouch, she kicked the weak door open, threw in the smoke bomb and moved quickly around the corner, pulling her phase pistol and priming it for maximum stun.

When the Klingon roared and stumbled outside, gasping for breath, he barely had time to wheeze before Andie dropped him to the ground with repeated blasts from her weapon. Taking the time to secure him with cuffs she found just inside the door, she rolled him into the shelter and glanced around. It was time for the next phase.

* * *

"Those scouts ships are moving in fast," Mayweather reported. He maneuvered the ship a few degrees to port to keep Enterprise out of range. "They separated and are coming from different directions."

"They think they're going to trap us in the middle," Archer decided. "Have you reached the landing party?" he asked Hoshi.

"There's still no response," she admitted after a moment. "I'm picking up interference from the planet."

"From the Dilithium mine?" the captain asked.

"No, it's artificial," Ensign Caffrey reported from the science station. "I can't get a lock on it. There's a sensor echo."

Archer growled. "Tactical alert!" The red lights and sirens went off. "Polarize the hull plating!" Ensign Burrows sat at the tactical station in Reed's absence and complied readily.

The scout ships came around in a wide arc to intercept the human ship. Finally they were in range and fired off a series of blasts.

"Get us out of the way, Travis!" Archer called out. "Get a lock on that second ship!"

"Aye, Captain," the ensigns responded. The Enterprise swung around to attack.

"Fire!" Archer commanded as the ship rocked with another blast from the second ship. Burrows complied, firing phase cannons and watching a stream of sparks blow out from the small Klingon ship.

"They are within transporter range, sir!" Caffrey called out from the science station.

"We're receiving reports of intruders, captain!" Hoshi called out, pressing a hand to her ear to block out extraneous noise. The sounds and squawks from her earpiece were giving her a headache. "Incursions on D Deck, E Deck!"

"Have security send a team of MACO's!" Archer barked, holding onto his chair as the first Klingon ship fired again.

Burrows pressed buttons on his console which directed the commandos to the fighting.

One of the Klingon ships fired again, but Mayweather's quick hands pulled the nose of the NX-01 out of harm's way and the dangerous light arched past the nose without doing any harm.

"Keep us out of range of those disruptors, Travis!" Archer barked.

"Aye, sir! I'll do my best," the earnest young man promised.

* * *

On E Deck, a Klingon turned around, obviously in the wrong place, but having no idea which way to go. He heard a noise down the corridor and ran in that direction. He encountered a brightly lit room filled with bottles and jars and one funny little man.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave," Phlox indicated with a firm hand. The bio-beds were filling up with the injured and to have a Klingon arrive at such an inopportune moment was a nuisance. A MACO straightened from her position on the wall where she leaned, awaiting her turn for the physician. Ignoring the damage to the arm that dangled uselessly, she pulled her pulse rifle to her shoulder and fired one shot directly at the intruder.

He jumped backward, out of the line of fire, but Phlox moved quickly to hit a new red button on the wall. In the junction of the corridor just outside Sickbay, four doors slid down and sealed the Klingon inside. They worked just like the slamming hoods in the new greenhouse.

"Doctor Brainerd assured me that this will make you sleepy," Phlox told him through the transparent walls. A green button allowed a gas to fill the enclosed space outside and while the Klingon beat on the walls in rage and fear, his head began to swim and he slid to the ground.

"That seemed to work very well!" Phlox rocked back on his heels, pleased with the upgrade.

"Except," Parsons broke in, setting her rifle down and cradling her arm again. "How are the wounded going to get in?"

"Oh, yes," Phlox considered the problem. "I think we'll have to work on that." The yellow button on the wall introduced a fan that sucked away the sleeping agent and left the Klingon unconscious on the floor. "Maybe I'll call maintenance." He released the temporary holding tank, allowing Parsons to secure the Klingon's hands with cuffs she carried with her. Phlox ran a scanner over the sleeping beast, to be sure he wasn't having a bad reaction to the sedative. Shrugging, Phlox returned to tending his patients.

* * *

"I am T'Pol," the Vulcan introduced herself to her companion. It seemed that the workers inside the cavern kept their own translation devices as she was understood. She was surprised to find that she could understand him as well.

"I am E'ewah, the head shepherd in this district," he told her quietly, stealing glances behind him at the fierce warriors. "I do not understand why these persons have attacked our community. We are a peaceful people," he started to bleat a little louder, grateful to have somebody who was willing to listen to his troubles.

"They have attacked your planet for this mineral," she interjected quickly to keep him quiet. "It is very valuable to them."

"They may have it," E'ewah replied quickly. "We only want to live in peace. Our _gatchka_ beasts give us everything we require."

"There is a ship in orbit, my ship. It can help you get rid of these Klingons," she spoke quickly. Dropping her head as the guard looked her way, she waited until he turned his attention to another worker before continuing. "In order to reach my ship, I must free my friends and leave this cavern," she pleaded. "Can you help us?"

"Oh, no," E'ewah refused. "I would not wish to do anything that might make them cross. They become violent when they are angry." Brown eyes widened in fear of the consequences.

"If I could just reach the supplies which were brought down from our ship," she tried again to sway this prisoner into helping her escape. "There is a device to communicate with my ship, and the Klingons need never know." Pursing her lips, she thought quickly. "You could draw their attention by making a loud noise over there," she indicated with a tilt of her head.

E'ewah looked torn.

"You would not be in trouble for making noise if you were in pain," T'Pol pointed out. She was counting on a quick turnaround. There were enough caverns in this place that the Klingons were spread thin. She had witnessed fewer than ten on this planet and if she was very quick, she could free her security agents before reinforcements arrived.

"I am not good at subterfuge," E'ewah explained. "How could I make a noise when I am not injured?"

T'Pol lifted one arched brow just before she lifted one slender hand. One quick pinch at the base of E'ewah's neck and he slumped to the ground. The shepherdess next to E'ewah squealed as he hit the ground.

"E'ewah!" she bleated, kneeling down and cradling his head.

Others rushed to their leader's aid. The Klingon moved quickly to the scene of the altercation and as he roughly shoved shepherd's aside, he failed to notice the Vulcan slipping backwards to allow him to pass. Dropping one cruel hand on the shoulder of the squealing female, the Klingon prepared to make her sorry for that shrill noise. He never saw the sturdy arm swing the shovel through the air, and he barely felt the connecting thud. He did see stars swim before his eyes just as darkness claimed him. He passed out on the floor of the cave, landing squarely on top of E'ewah. T'Pol claimed his weapons.

"Your assistance was valuable," T'Pol told both the unconscious shepherd and the still squealing female. Moving quickly, she retrieved the pack of weapons and supplies that had been confiscated from the human crew and slipped around the corner. She fired the disruptor pistol at the cage doors and Reed and the MACO's slipped out.

"These Klingons are not well trained," she noted. "Enterprise security would never have left supply packs in view of the prisoners."

Reed smiled at her assessment of his department. "Thank you for the complement. Let's get out of here."

Romero cradled his wound but was able to move through the dark caverns, with Woods acting as support. Reed and T'Pol dragged the heavy weight of an unconscious Klingon through the caverns and into the third cage that had not yet been used. Reed used his own phase pistol to sear the metal together, preventing escape.

T'Pol began to lead them to the main entrance. Reed stopped her. "There's a fresh breeze back here," he told her. "There must be an opening in the rock. If we can find it, we don't have to fight our way past all those Klingons."

"You don't know that there is a passage large enough for all of us," she pointed out. "If we move quickly, we should be able to bypass those guards that linger."

In the end, their decision was made easy. An explosion just outside the main cavern entrance shook the walls they stood inside.

"That was a stun grenade," Reed assessed, tilting his head to the right to listen.

His eyes met the Vulcans.

"I'm afraid that the doctor is acting rashly," she surmised.

"Damn that bloody woman!" Reed cursed as he picked up his bag and hurried through the caverns to the main entrance.

As they hurried, the other prisoners watched them with wide eyes. T'Pol stopped to rest a hand on the shoulder of E'ewah as he woke from his unexpected nap. "You should follow us," she told him. "Stay well back from the fighting, but we will get you out of here. You will be with your herds again soon."

E'ewah rose to his feet with the help of the shepherdess still tending his injury. He spoke quickly to his comrades and with much hesitation they moved as a group after the Starfleet crew.

Inside the next two caverns only one Klingon remained. It took only a couple of blasts from either Reed or Woods to drop each one as he stood alone. E'ewah stepped forward to tell the others that they were being set free, and each one of the natives twitched their goat-like horns and joined the parade. Woods joined the security officer at the front, and Reed peeked back to see that two shepherds had taken Romero under their arms to support him. T'Pol was leading the group of non-military natives who followed her like children afraid of being left behind.

The last cavern was filled with the fresh cold air of night, and they could see the dim aquamarine grasses that covered the ground through the wide open mouth of the mine. The two men crept forward quietly. Although there was a fire burning outside, there were no Klingons to be found. It made for a nerve wracking experience.

Every footstep he took, Malcolm expected to feel the heavy weight of a Klingon paw hit his shoulder, or the fiery blast of a disruptor pistol from a weapon he had not seen. With the large group of people behind him, he couldn't just stop moving. The sight of the outside excited them and made them eager to be gone from this place.

A sharp blast of heat burned its way past his cheek. Malcolm ducked before the owner of the disruptor could fire a second shot. Woods stepped out and fired his pulse rifle in the direction of the hostile fire, and several more shots from several more directions drove them behind the lip of the cavern. They came from behind the rocks that provided cover just outside the mine.

Behind them, T'Pol urged the shepherds to seek cover behind the rocks to avoid the blasts. She crept forward on light footsteps to stand at Woods' shoulder and fire her own pistol. Behind the growing blaze in front of the mine a figure stood. It was large enough to be Klingon but Reed could barely make out the features as it stood behind the bright light. He shielded his eyes with one hand while trying to get a bead on his target. The target focused easily on Reed. As it lifted its meaty arm, a bright blue bolt of energy came from somewhere overhead and the Klingon fell down.

Other Klingons fired their weapons, this time at a point above Reed's head, giving away their location but not damaging their other attackers. Reed and Woods each dropped a Klingon with stunning blasts, and T'Pol fired her weapon and hit one in the shoulder. It didn't drop him, but it stung because he grabbed his shoulder and cursed in his guttural tongue.

Reed had a moment to think that T'Pol had been right; these were ill-trained warriors, before a blast directly behind his head drove him out into the open. A rock fragment cut across his cheek, and he tucked his body and rolled closer to a boulder near the door. He was no longer surrounded by the walls of the caves and a Klingon fired a blast behind him, driving him further into the light of the fire.

Above the rocky cave, a Klingon roared in rage and frustration before his footing gave out on the slippery rock. From his vantage point on the ground Reed watched a shadow swing at the larger creature's head, sealing his clumsy fate. The Klingon slid down the slope of the mountain and his rage could be heard echoing around the walls of the deep cavern before fading away. He would be discovered at the bottom of the fissure, on the edge of the lip where the communications array had waited. A tree truck would have stopped his descent and rendered him unconscious.

Woods and T'Pol cornered another Klingon and between them, fired enough stunning blasts to finally drop him as he tried to pull the pin on a stun grenade. His fall made a loud crash. Reed rolled his head around to witness it when the final Klingon jumped from a boulder, intending to land on Reed's head and crush him beneath his boot. It was too late for Reed to move away.

The shadow at the apex of the cave mouth jumped through the air just a fraction of a second sooner, landing lightly and tucking into a roll that brought her up on her knees. Focusing her aim carefully, she fired at the Klingon as he moved through the air, and the force of her blast knocked him off target. He landed clumsily to one side of Reed, who rolled to his feet and dealt a solid knock to the chest and a two-fisted blow to the head. The Klingon rocked back on his feet.

One final blast of blue light and he sank to the ground.

Panting, Reed turned around. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"That's what I was about to ask you!" Andie spat back.

The stillness after the gunfight was broken by the noisy flight of shepherds happy to be removed from the dark cave. T'Pol waved them forward and they rushed into the moonlit night, disappearing into the rolling hills on the far side as they moved far away from the marauders who hijacked them.

A beep sounded through the night. T'Pol looked surprised and pulled her communicator from her pocket and flicked it open.

"Archer to T'Pol; are you all right down there?"

"Yes, Captain," she nodded, a little breathless from the exertion. "We are fine. We are returning to the shuttle pod immediately."

"It's good to hear your voice." She couldn't see him but his relief was clear to everyone. "We ran into some old friends up here. Do you need any extra help?"

"We do not," she replied, looking around at the piles of unconscious Klingon bodies.

"Then I'll see you soon," he replied and signed off.

T'Pol looked around at Reed and Woods and the doctor who had already moved to take a look at Romero's wound. "Let's return to the ship," she told them.

Nodding, they began the trek back to the shuttle pod.


	21. Chapter 21

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

The crew on board the Enterprise was puzzled. In the middle of the exchange of hostile fire, the Klingon ships suddenly stopped their attack. The two Klingons holding their position in the corridor outside Main Engineering and the one still lying unconscious outside Sickbay were transported off the human's ship, along with the four warriors still locked in the brig.

On the bridge, Archer looked puzzled. It seemed unlikely that they would just leave. Hoshi acknowledged that the interference was gone and the scanners were once again receiving information from the surface. She noted the campfire and the Klingon shuttle and Archer didn't waste any time in sending down a message to the landing party. He was relieved to hear that everyone was unharmed and that the shuttle pod was returning. The captain indicated that they should be brought into the Launch Bay. He was relieved when they were cleared by medical without having to go through Decon.

Woods helped Romero into Sickbay followed by Andie and Malcolm. T'Pol pulled the captain aside and they walked together through the corridor to the command center, speaking in hushed tones. By the time the facts of the landing party became clear, the bridge had sent down some more pertinent data.

* * *

Archer entered Sickbay in time to hear Andie's voice rising sharply. "You're doing it wrong!"

Phlox's normally even tones were beginning to exhibit stress. "I have been a doctor for many years. I have treated many of these injuries. I am not doing it wrong!"

"Yes, you are!" she insisted. "I'll do it myself!"

"You can't possibly treat your own wounds!" Phlox insisted. He and Doctor Brainerd were hidden behind a thin curtain and only their sharp words gave any clue as to where they were. Malcolm sat on a bio-bed nearby, secretly enjoying the fact that he was no longer the patient on board that gave the chief medical officer the worst time.

"I could do it just fine, thank you very much!"

Archer shared a dubious look with Malcolm.

"Fine! My Denobulan medical ethics forbid me from treating a patient that refuses my care, and if you don't..."

"Phlox?"

"Yes, Doctor?" He turned back patiently, halfway through the curtain, hope lighting his eyes.

"Leave the bone mender." The tool in question was a long needle that inserted a calcium paste into the fractured bone, keeping it together and stimulating the body's own ability to repair itself. On the other bed, Malcolm winced at the thought of Andie poking herself with the needle.

There was a loud snort before Phlox turned over the medical instrument to the patient. He drew the curtain and met with Archer in the middle of the room. "The MACO's have sustained some injuries," he noted. "Corporal Romero suffered some burns on his calf and his shoulder. Coporal Woods had several nasty lacerations on his face, but they have both been released to their quarters to heal."

"Andie?" Jon queried gruffly.

"I've got a cracked rib," chirped the voice behind the curtain. "I fell off a cave. Phlox, would you help me wrap this?"

Phlox sighed and rolled his eyes before entering again to wind a bandage around her middle to keep the bones immobile while mending. He helped her pull on the top of a pair of gray hospital pajamas and she pulled the curtain back, wandering barefoot through the lab.

"See? As good as new!" she announced. "I told you I did it better!" She tossed her hair over one shoulder defiantly, beaming at the Denobulan doctor.

"Let's not start another argument on the folly of being one's own patient, Doctor," Phlox began in a weary tone.

"Sure," she agreed, teasing. "I'm sure you've learned your lesson."

Archer was amused by Phlox's look of resignation, but there were more important matters to discuss at the moment. The Denobulan moved to the other bio-bed to tend to Reed's injuries, which weren't as bad as they could have been.

"When you were down there," Archer began, "how did you get separated from the rest of the landing party?"

Andie was suddenly interested in studying her feet. "I...er...may have...uh, fallen off a cliff," she stammered, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"You fell off a cliff?" Archer repeated.

"The rocks are like shale, slippery and loose. I stood too close and slid over the edge. I caught myself before I fell all the way down and when I climbed back up, everybody was gone." She snuck a look at Reed's face. "Captured," she clarified, watching his eyes narrow at her gentle goad.

"Did you happen to see anything out of the ordinary down there?"

"Out of the ordinary?" she parroted sarcastically. "Like a hairy hippo? Like Klingons taking hostages? Like Reed actually hitting the target he was aiming at? You'll have to be more specific." She was downright chipper and this time didn't bother to turn to see Reed's rage. She could hear the indignant sound he made when he heard her jab, and she chuckled. The expression on the captain's face made her humor fade away.

She studied Archer's steady gaze. "I'm sure you have something already in mind, Captain. It'll save time if you just get to the point."

"Did you see anything that looked like a transmitter?"

"A transmitter?" she repeated. A furrow of confusion split her forehead. "Would that be a little house with lots of buttons and lights?"

Archer's frown deepened. "Yes, it would be a lot like that. It's sometimes called a communications array."

"I wasn't getting a reading on my scanner and couldn't communicate with the ship. I followed the source of the interference and found a jamming station," she answered easily. "I think they were using it to interfere with ship to ground communications." She shrugged. "Whatever it was, I turned it off."

Malcolm's jaw fell open. "You turned it off? You didn't even know what it did! Maybe it was the main power station for hospitals and you just turned off everybody's life support!" He brushed away Phlox's attempts to clean the scrape on his cheek.

Andie looked at Malcolm. "It was balanced on the edge of a mountain. Stupid place to leave the main power station for a hospital that must be several hundred kilometers from there." She pursed her lips. "I turned dials and pushed buttons until the lights went off."

"Did you happen to notice the transmission?" Archer asked sternly.

"What transmission?" Andie's gray eyes widened. "Did I send a transmission? What did I send?"

"Hoshi intercepted a code. It was a bunch of random words and numbers. Do you want to know where it went?"

Andie look concerned. "Where did it go?"

"Qo'nos."

Andie blinked once. The confused look never left her face. "I sent a coded transmission to the Klingon home world?" Ignoring the shock that filled the room, she looked to Archer for confirmation. He nodded grimly.

"A General Dhorm sent a message back, indicating that the matter would be taken care of," Archer's tone grew cold. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

Weakly, Andie shook her head, still puzzled.

"Soon after that the Klingons stopped firing and returned to the planet."

"Have they retaken E'ewah's people?" she questioned, never losing that slightly dazed look on her face.

"No," he answered, disgruntled. "They do seem to be packing up their campsite. E'ewah's people have invited members of the crew to break bread with them tomorrow to celebrate. There is expected to be some talk about the dilithium mine. You won't be too upset if I don't take you along with me?" His tone was downright snide.

"No, that's fine," she answered faintly. "I don't know what happened." Her vision cleared. "Do you mind if I go to my room now? I think I need to lie down."

"Go ahead," Jon waved her past him. She wandered out of the room, still looking a little off-centered.

"Do you believe her?" Malcolm asked, free of Phlox's ministrations and pulling his uniform back over the shoulder the doctor had been inspecting.

"I don't know what to believe," Jon answered honestly. "If she did it on purpose, she saved our butts, but to do it in such a sneaky, underhanded way..." His voice trailed off. "The ability to speak Klingon is a rare gift. Why wouldn't that appear on her professional record?"

"She may not want anyone to know she's the personal friend of a Klingon general," Malcolm pointed out.

"How can that be, Malcolm?" Jon asked, falling into step as they walked back to crew quarters. "We were the first people to lay eyes on Klingons."

Malcolm pondered the question in the turbo-lift. "Perhaps she heard of them through her father," he answered.

"I don't like this," Archer stated. "I don't like secrets on my ship. Have you heard anything back from your sources on Earth?"

"Not since this morning, sir," Malcolm answered with a small smile. "When I do, you'll be the first to know." The lift stopped and Malcolm got out. "Coming, sir?"

"I need to send a message to Starfleet Command," Archer explained. "I'll see you tomorrow." The door was nearly closed when Archer stopped it from closing. "You didn't suffer any major injuries, did you?"

Malcolm was touched by the concern of his captain. "No, nothing serious," he answered. He hesitated to add, "I would have been in trouble out there if it weren't for Doctor Brainerd. Her aim is better than I gave her credit for." That was another little detail that wriggled in the back of his mind.

"Good to know," Archer acknowledged. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

He should probably let her sleep after the long day they'd had, but he found himself stopping at her door on the way to his own.

Malcolm studied her as the door opened. "You brought down a Klingon invasion nearly by yourself," he told her, uncertainly.

"I didn't do it by myself and they weren't an invasion," she told him. "They were renegades. Didn't you see their gear? It was all worn and old. They were mercenaries who were drummed out of decent society for failing their duties as warriors. They were just trying to find a way to buy their way back into their families' good graces." She still wore the gray pajamas from Sickbay.

He raised an eyebrow and studied her curiously.

"I spent a lot of time hearing about Klingons when I was a kid," she added self-consciously. "Dad had a lot of time to tell stories. I heard about the distant bastard cousins of Klingon lore."

Malcolm smirked. "Humans didn't know that Klingons existed until four years ago," he reminded her.

She lifted her chin defiantly and sniffed at his presumption. "You didn't know that I existed until a few weeks ago, and yet I did not spring into creation at the moment you knew of me. I existed without you just fine." Her chin lifted higher as she teased, "Too bad you can't say the same about me!"

He leaned in very close to her. "What did the transmission say?" he asked in a low voice that made goose bumps rise on her arms.

"I don't know. What did it say?" she leaned in and repeated the question.

"It said that your days on this ship are numbered." His smile was chilly.

She scowled and pushed him gently back into the hall. He heard her muttering as the door closed, "Next time I'll just let them beat you silly."

* * *

"I heard you had a big day," Trip leaned against her door when she finally opened it.

"I thought you might be Reed again, but Leon didn't make a peep." She sighed and smiled.

"Your cat sure doesn't like Malcolm," he noted.

Andie bent and scratched the furry head idly. "Leon's a good boy, isn't he?" she cooed. The cat preened. In spite of the late hour, Trip noticed the tight tee shirt and loose pants.

"Are you headed for the gym?" he asked.

"Yeah," she grimaced in disgust. "I think I pulled a muscle wrassling with aliens, and I thought a little yoga would stretch it out before bed."

"You want some company?" Trip asked, wondering what ever possessed him to set foot inside the gym without a direct order from the captain or the chief tactical officer.

"Sure," she grinned. She glanced at his jumpsuit. "Shall we stop by your cabin first?"

"Sure," he mimicked.

They stepped out into the hallway. In the somewhat brighter light in the corridor, Trip noticed a dark stain on her shoulder and he yelped and grabbed her arm. Pushing the sleeve up to inspect the mark, he took a careful peek at the darkening bruise.

"What the hell happened to you?" he roared.

"You should see the other guy," was the noncommittal reply she offered before pulling the shirt back over the blemish. A noise caught their attention. A thump resounded against the inside of the door. They both looked back at the portal they'd just come through.

"I don't think my bodyguard likes you manhandling me," she persisted with her lightly teasing tone, turning a quick grin at the suddenly scowling man.

"You look like you took a couple good punches," he gritted out, ignoring her efforts to turn the conversation away from her injuries. He felt protective towards her, like the time when he was little and he got into schoolyard fights trying to protect his sisters.

"Nah," she protested. "He only hit me once. He threw me pretty far though. I think I landed on a rock at any rate." Another thump tried to drive through the door. "It's no big deal. I pushed him down a hill."

Both blond heads turned toward the door. Trip glanced at Andie. "You don't think they're hurting themselves, do you?" The tight pain in his chest didn't recede, but if she wasn't worried about her injuries, he didn't think his objections would help.

His inquiry was answered with a whoosh. The door swung open to reveal Napoleon sitting with his tail wrapped around his feet, waiting for the sliding obstruction to move. Next to him, on the inside, Josephine licked her white paws and panted from her exertions.

Napoleon stepped into the corridor like he owned it, and Josephine went back to her quiet bed.

Andie glared at the cat while it was Trip who chuckled. "I think she jumped at the button until it triggered the door."

"You put her up to it, didn't you?" she questioned the orange cat in aggravation, who paused like a deer in the headlights when he realized the humans had not yet cleared the hallway. "You little dictator!" she hissed at him, followed by a humored tone. "And I only add the 'tater' because you're family," she assured him severely.

The feline did what every feline does when they're caught doing something they shouldn't be doing. He sat on his haunches and began licking the base of his tail.

Trip giggled. "Looks like he doesn't want to remain in your quarters," he observed.

Andie rolled her eyes. "No man wants to stay too long with one woman," she pretended to moan, complete with an exaggerated pantomime of holding her hand to her forehead. She sighed and prepared to pick up the cat, who in turn, prepared to run away.

Trip stayed her arm. "He's all right. He won't hurt anybody. I'll get someone down from Engineering tomorrow to work out a cat proof door." He sounded bemused.

"Thanks."

They walked around the corner and Andie lingered in the doorway as Trip picked up some clothes and slipped into his bathroom. Noticing the pictures stuck onto his bulletin board, and

tucked into crevices, she stepped further inside the room. Trip found her perusing his photos when he returned, wearing sweats and a tee shirt.

"Some of these are very good," she admired them quietly. "You like to scuba dive?"

"Yeah. You?" He blushed to be showing her his pictures. There were several of his family and one of him posing with Jon in their wetsuits, and several more of the crew in various exotic locations.

"Nah," she refuted. "I surf. But not very well," she added.

"Where do you surf?" he asked, curious.

"Southern California, most recently." She nodded, taking in the old fashioned scuba diver's helmet and Frankenstein monster.

"That would explain the occasional 'dude' that drops into your conversation," he teased.

"Dude," she obliged, slipping into a surfer's drawl. "It, like, totally would."

"You ready?" he waved her out the door. It had been quite a while since anybody but T'Pol had seen the inside of his cabin, and right now, he didn't want to think about that anymore. He'd been terrified when he heard that the landing party had lost communications and he'd nearly torn the head off his engineering team when he hadn't been allowed to go after them. He could use a little relaxation right now. "Want to blow off the gym and go for ice cream instead?"

"Sure," she nodded. "I might need to hear about your most unfortunate scuba accident."

"As long as you share stories about your surfing safaris," he agreed easily.

"Awesome, dude!" she grinned. "Your scuba stories wouldn't happen to involve you losing your pants, would they?" That irrepressible grin was firmly in place. "If they don't, they should."

"You pay too much attention to my pants," he told her dryly, making her giggle again.

* * *

Malcolm was up late in spite of his long day. He changed into a fresh uniform and headed down to the Armory to inspect the damage. He called Ensign Burrows out of bed to get a detailed verbal report, before reminding the young man that he expected the written report on his desk in the morning. He made his way to the bridge to check on Hoshi Sato, notorious for being uncomfortable in combat situations. He found her replacement was already on duty, and made a note to see her tomorrow. He made his way to the Mess Hall to pick up a quick sandwich from the cooler to tide him over until breakfast.

In spite of all his dithering, he soon found himself back in his cabin. He slipped into a loose pair of pants and climbed into bed. His mind raced around, filing away several problems and making a mental list of details to see to tomorrow.

When he finally fell asleep, he had nightmares. Even in sleep, he couldn't escape from those dark years of his youth and his most tragic mistakes replayed over and over again in his mind. It was something that occurred more and more frequently since entering the Expanse, but even now, when that mission was over, he couldn't rid himself of the nightmarish terrors that woke him in a cold sweat with one name falling from his lips.

He couldn't escape Eleanor.


	22. Chapter 22

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

Malcolm finally stopped trying to sleep and shut off his alarm two hours before he was scheduled to rise. He showered and dressed in a fresh uniform and headed for the Armory to check on the repair work. Lieutenant Truax had things well in hand, as she always did, and Malcolm discovered that he was underfoot more than he was helping. It wasn't at all like those first years in space when he had to stay on top of every member of his crew to keep working instead of staring out the windows at all those uncharted stars. He uploaded the latest reports to a padd for further perusal and stuck it in his pocket.

Restlessly he wandered the halls of the ship, trying to find something to occupy his time until he had to meet the landing party in the Launch Bay. Archer intended to go back and make a peaceful contact with these aliens and allow for further discussion about mining rights to their dilithium with authorities on Earth. Checking the time, he decided he had time for a quick stop in Sickbay to check on the injuries sustained yesterday before that wretched woman came on duty.

As luck would have it, that wretched woman was already there. She reclined in a chair near the rear of the lab, with her feet propped up on the table in front of her, making a good pretense of reading a medical chart and making notations. There was an enormous thermos of coffee sitting at her elbow and it seemed more likely given the early hour and the shadows under her eyes that she was spending more time getting familiar with her coffee than the reports. She looked as bad as he felt. Luckily, Phlox was also there, and to Malcolm's relief came forward to review the human damage, most of which had been minimal.

Happy to determine that his people were healing well, Malcolm headed for the Mess Hall, which was just beginning to fill up. Chef had set out the first offering of breakfast and the lieutenant filled a plate with eggs and bacon and settled into a chair near the door as he liked to do. It made slipping away to work much easier if you didn't have to pass by every body in the room.

Pushing things that he didn't want to think about to the back of his mind was a habit that had grown more familiar recently. He maintained a focus on the reports on his padd until the room filled with people and noise. Tucking his reading material back into his pocket, Reed stood and prepared to wander down to the Launch Bay. It wouldn't hurt to look over Kelby's pre-flight check of Shuttlepod One.

His mind continued to catalog maintenance and diagnostics to be done and he didn't notice he'd got off on the wrong deck until he wandered past the greenhouse. Peeking in the clear panel in the door, he saw the young doctor seated on a stool in the corner talking animatedly with someone he couldn't see, probably on the computer terminal she'd installed there. Her eyes crinkled with easy laughter, and she threw back her head in merriment. Even from his awkward vantage point he could see the dark bruises against the collar of her neck, where a massive hand had squeezed her throat and lifted her off her feet. Malcolm shivered, even as he reminded himself that she handled herself well both times she came into contact with the enemy.

A little voice inside his head reminded him that the enemy was cold and ruthless and could strike when you weren't expecting them. He learned that in the last year. They may not be on a mission to annihilate the enemy right now, but there was always the chance that the unexpected would drop them back in the middle of danger. Unconsciously, his hand dropped to his hip where he fingered the weapon that had become standard issue. All security officers carried a weapon with them when they were on duty. Getting the drop on the enemy was the only way to stay alive.

In many ways, Malcolm Reed had never really left the Expanse. He was haunted by his obsession with mistakes and losses, including a third of the crew. He took a personal interest in every loss of life on board. Although he maintained a friendly demeanor with the crew, he felt more cold and alone than ever before.

Right now, he turned in the corridor and rode the turbo-lift to the correct floor. Making his way to the shuttle bay, he joined the others who were gathering there for their mission today. Today expected to be peaceful, and Trip was leaning in to talk quietly with T'Pol. Their relationship wasn't easy, Malcolm knew, but there was a part of him that envied their companionship.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jolted out of his mental meanderings with a jump.

"Are you sure you want to go again?" Archer tried for an easygoing banter. "You took a couple good punches yesterday. I'd understand if you wanted to let somebody else watch our backs."

"I'm fine, Captain," Malcolm remarked easily, even if that knot was back in the pit of his stomach.

Jon studied his lieutenant's face. "You look tired. Did you get enough sleep?"

"Yes, sir. I'm ready to work, sir," Malcolm snapped off what he hoped was a jaunty salute.

Archer didn't look amused. What had started as an off-hand remark took on a serious tone when he caught sight of the dark circles under Reed's eye. The cut on that chiseled cheek was healing nicely, but there was something inside those steely eyes that reminded Archer of polar ice caps. "Are you sure?" He dropped his voice so that the others in the room couldn't hear.

"I'm fine, sir, really," Malcolm answered stiffly, embarrassed that the captain would see through his false assurances.

There wasn't any reason not to believe that Reed was telling him the truth, but Jon thought that he wasn't just the same. "I think we've all been too much 'fine,'" he sighed heavily, but turned to enter the room anyway.

Trip and T'Pol were ready to go and the four of them set out to rediscover their new friends.

* * *

The Erlath people put on a great feast, in the heart of their great city, which was really more of a large village. Nearly three hundred people turned out for the festivities. Bowls of _gatchka_ meat and _gatchka_ stew and _gatchka_ jerky were passed around. Flasks of tea and water were offered. Their new friends pulled out all the stops by offering several praises to the gods of the _gatchka_ herds, and offerings for better crops. There was a chorus of songs and several dances and more tributes to the great beast that kept these people alive.

At the end of it all, Reed was bored and frustrated by the lack of anything to do. Grateful to be released at the end of the ceremonies, he hurried back to the landing pad where he waited by the shuttle pod. He was rolling his neck around to release the kinks when Trip stepped up and slapped him on the back.

"That stew was pretty good, dontcha think?" he drawled, sighing and rubbing his belly.

"I'll be happy to get out of here," Reed grumbled. "These people make me twitchy."

Trip grinned. "Is that because they don't have weapons or a tactical station and in the event that vagabonds show up, they just lay down and offer them access to everything?" He knew how horrified Malcolm had been that these people hadn't even put up a fight when the Klingons had arrived.

"It's just not healthy," Malcolm groused, knowing this was exactly the reason that these people made him nervous. He tried to reassure himself that the Klingons had attacked a rural group of shepherds and told himself that if they'd landed in the main village that they would have done more to protect themselves, but these people were so peaceful that he was certain it wouldn't have made a difference.

"They are pretty happy to have their lives back," Archer grinned as he joined them. "They said it was all right if we wanted to look around."

"I'll prep the shuttle pod," Reed volunteered, mostly for something to do. The Erlathians had only rudimentary starships, traveling only as far as the moons of this world to trade their wares, but they had a sufficient landing pad in each village.

He was just finishing up when T'Pol arrived, toting a small bag at her side. "The Erlath wanted to make a gift to us," she explained to Captain Archer. "They were persistent and would only release me when I took some of their craft." Her voice was calm, but there was an underlying tone that gave away her disgust. Opening the satchel, she showed them the skeins of brown _gatchka_ wool. "Doctor Brainerd has offered to teach me to knit," she shrugged delicately.

Trip snickered, but by inhaling, caught a whiff of the beast that lingered on the yarn. His eyebrows shot upwards as he choked on the pungent odor. "Maybe the quartermaster has something that you can use to take the smell away."

"I will be sure to inquire about that," she acknowledged, to Trip's amusement.

"Let's go have a look at the landing site," Archer indicated that they should get in. He took the helm and they settled in for a closer look at the area they landed on yesterday.

* * *

Malcolm hunkered near the edge of the cliff, close to the boulders where he and T'Pol were snatched, and the MACO's were overpowered. The scanner in his hand worked relentlessly, as he scoured the side of the hill. Archer crouched down next to him.

"What are you looking for?" Jon inquired with forced pleasantry. Although taken aback by the site where his crew had been taken unawares by villains, he had time to note the serene location. The view was incredible and he wondered if anyone had actually climbed most of the adjacent hillsides.

"Doctor Brainerd claimed she fell," Malcolm reminded him grimly. "I'm looking for evidence that she slipped."

"You don't think she slid down?" Archer asked. He had begun to wonder about their new doctor as well.

"I think there is much we don't know about her," Malcolm answered. He pointed to two long trails that began a short distance away. "Those two trails look like she may have slid there, but the ground at the top is not disturbed. I think she jumped over the side, and slid down that way, but I don't think she lost her footing."

"She jumped on purpose?" Jon repeated. "You think she allowed you to get captured?" He pondered that idea. It was hard to believe that any member of his crew would be so callous with their fellow crewmates. "Maybe she just heard them coming and slipped away to evade capture herself. You said she came back for you."

Malcolm pursed his lips. "Perhaps," was his only answer. He rose and followed Archer along the lip of the canyon, pointing out marks in the ground where a scuffle took place and repeated the incidents as he recalled them.

They ran into T'Pol and Trip at the mouth of the cavern that the Klingons had hollowed to take out the dilithium ore. Trip had smudged dirt across his shirt, but T'Pol was still crisp and clean.

"Captain," the Vulcan called out. She held out a sample of the dilithium rock. "We've run preliminary scans on the mineral."

"It's a sub-standard rock, Cap'n," Trip interrupted. "There are flaws in the make-up of the crystal. You might power a small generator jus' fine, but these wouldn't be any use to large starships."

"The small vessels the Erlath use to transport their goods to the surrounding lunar colonies would use the damaged dilithium," T'Pol added. "It would not be recommended for the Warp Five engine on Enterprise."

Archer's face fell a little. "Are you sure?"

"If you like, we can take a sample back to the laboratory onboard for a more thorough examination," the Vulcan offered.

"I'm sure the micro-fractures we've found here will be found up there, Cap'n," Trip joined in, tearing his eyes from the extraordinary view nearby. "We don't need this supply of dilithium." He grinned at his friend. "You didn't want to negotiate mining rights anyway, right? You're a starship captain, not a captain of industry!"

Archer smiled at the assessment, but the worry didn't fully leave his eyes. "Why don't you two go back to the ship and confirm the impurities. You can come back for Malcolm and me in a couple of hours."

Trip looked puzzled but didn't say anything. "Sure, Cap'n. Anything wrong?" He studied his friend.

"It's a beautiful day, Trip. I don't want to give it up just yet."

Trip nodded, although he was unconvinced that he'd been given the full explanation. He ushered T'Pol along the rim of the canyon with the sample of rocks they'd collected and left the two men to their musings.

Malcolm studied the captain steadily.

"I want to see exactly where she went and exactly what she did," Archer sighed when the others had left. "Let's walk a kilometer or so in her shoes."

Wordlessly they walked back to the point where Doctor Brainerd had slipped away.

* * *

It was very late in the afternoon when the two finally returned to the ship. Their findings at the communications array at the bottom of the hill had not allayed their concerns about the doctor, and the first officer and chief engineer had been summoned once again for a meeting about their latest crewmember.

Trip emphatically defended his new friend, in spite of the evidence that was beginning to mount against her. T'Pol remained impassive, giving away none of her thoughts on the actions of the woman who made a weekly pilgrimage to her cabin to join the Vulcan meditation. Archer steamed, hissing out angry accusations whenever Trip thought to defend Andie, something he did quite frequently. In the end, T'Pol suggested that the crewmember be brought in to defend her actions if she could and Malcolm was dispensed to find her.

He headed straight for the greenhouse and was a little surprised to find it empty. Most of the crew found some excuse to linger in this room with its warm lights and moist atmosphere and heady smells. In the corner the computer terminal that had been set up to regulate the atmosphere and complicated equipment stood ready to serve. The temptation was too great to resist.

He wanted to know who she responded to on this hidden terminal.

He flicked a button to call the screen to life and used his security passwords to access her logs. There was only one address that received data from this terminal. Glancing over his shoulder to verify that he was alone, he tapped the connection to link up.

The camera on the other end showed an elbow in a white lab coat. Just outside the range of the camera Malcolm could see a shaggy head turned in the other direction. A low beep indicated that the link was connected, and the shaggy head turned to peer at the monitor.

"_Mon amie_, you've finally decided to accept my proposal?" teased a tenor voice. Green eyes focused on Malcolm. "You're not Andie." That statement was given with a wary glance.

"My name is Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. I'm the Tactical Officer on the starship Enterprise," Malcolm introduced himself. "To whom am I speaking?"

"The name's Colt," the young man replied, immediately on edge. "Where's Andie?"

"She's busy in the other room," Malcolm lied. "She's got into a spot of trouble and I was hoping you could help." Emphasizing his British accent generally made people more at ease, and Malcolm hoped this would be the case.

"What happened? Is she all right?" The man was sitting upright now, tensely waiting the outcome.

"How well do you know Doctor Brainerd?" Malcolm struggled to think of some question he could ask of this man who knew Andie well enough to propose something to her.

"I know her well enough to know that she likes to be called by her first name," the man called Colt answered carefully. His eyes flicked up, over Malcolm's shoulder, causing the hair to prickle on the Brit's neck. Turning his head he saw Andie standing behind him, holding a steaming cup of coffee and looking calmly furious.

"Reed's worried that I'm a spy," she fumed, much to Colt's delight.

"Ohhh!" he drew the word out into one long sound. "Am I your accomplice?" He flashed a wide smile that showed off a lot of straight white teeth. Malcolm could see why she had been so easy with this man earlier.

"Apparently," she glared at Reed. "You certainly look suspicious, Rosebud. Where are you hiding the microfiche?" She flirted with the young man on the other end, who took supreme delight in rubbing it in.

"It's inside the cyanide cap you put on my molar," Colt grinned. "Have you done anything supremely naughty this time?"

"I did save his life," she nodded. "Oh, and I shot him in the butt, but that was yesterday. He hasn't caught on to my naughtiness today."

"Don't count on that," Malcolm muttered. Andie ignored him.

"After the last time I thought you would have learned that when you shoot somebody they're supposed to die and be buried in the desert," he teased.

"I thought I was supposed to dip them in acid and torch their house?" she went on, ignoring Reed as he stood and got out of their way. She sat in the chair he vacated.

"No, that's only if they're Russian. He's not Russian, is he? He sounds like a Limey."

"No," she assured Colt with a snide glance at Reed. "He's not Russian, he's just a dick."

Reed finally broke into their easy conversation. "Why is your computer logged in to his computer?"

Andie stared at him like he should be doused in pesticide. "This is Doctor James Colt, the head of the research department that sent this greenhouse into space," she answered coolly. "He answers questions and checks on my progress through the video link. All other correspondence goes through the computer in my quarters. You'll need a special pass to get into that one." That last statement was downright nasty.

"You seem friendly," Reed pointed out.

"We're old friends," Colt told him agreeably. "Andie got me through med school."

"Yes," Andie agreed airily. "I killed all the teachers that wouldn't give him a passing grade." Pursing her lips, she gestured at the chronometer. "Aren't you late for...something?"

"The captain would like to see you in the Conference Room immediately," Malcolm told her snidely.

"Fine," she hissed. "I'll meet you outside."

Obviously she wanted to confer in private with her sidekick. He straightened his spine. "I'll leave you to it then," he answered and turned on his heel. Outside he kicked himself for getting caught. He would have to finish his snooping later, he decided. And he'd have to choose someone who wasn't as fond of that damned woman to help him.

"He seems high strung," Colt announced with a pointed look at his colleague.

"Yes, he does," she agreed with a nasty look at the door that closed behind him.

"Are you in trouble?" Colt asked, all signs of teasing gone from his face.

"No more than usual," Andie answered shortly.

"That much, huh?" Her friend teased. "You can always come work for me." The offer was made in a soft pleading voice. It was an offer he'd made before.

"You know that's not my kind of work," she declined gently. "I'm sorry he bothered you."

"No worries," he acknowledged. "You better not keep him waiting. He looks like he's got a lot on his mind."

"Not as much as one would think," she freely insulted Reed, knowing he couldn't hear anything that she said.

"I'm serious," Colt protested. "He looks...haunted."

She paused in her retort and looked thoughtfully at the door the lieutenant had vacated. "There seems to be a lot of ghosts loose these days," she muttered vaguely. Turning back to her friend, she smiled. "Got to get that ass-kicking over with. Everything okay at your end?"

"Yeah, I'll let you about that last data stream tomorrow."

"I look forward to it." She smiled and signed off. The frown returned and she met Reed in the hallway.

* * *

"Are you engaged to that man?" he asked as he escorted her stiffly to the conference room. He took special delight in not informing her as to the nature of the offense that brought her before the senior staff, and she took the same delight in not appearing worried about the upcoming conference which only made him angry that she didn't seem worried about something that would tie his insides up in knots for days.

"I am not engaged." Her answer was short.

"He thought you were answering his proposal," Malcolm pointed out.

Andie inhaled slowly and let the air out, trying to buy the time to remember that she shouldn't hit the armory officer for prying into her private affairs. "He offered me a position with his research department. I declined. He is not easily deterred."

"You don't like research?"

"Depends on the research," was her only reply.

"He seems friendly," Malcolm tried again to ascertain something about her.

"He is," she replied.

"You seem to be friendly with all your co-workers," he pointed out, remembering the warm light in her eyes when she spoke of the ill-fated Doctor Godfried.

"I'm a friendly girl," she stated lightly.

"You're _friendly_ to almost every person on board," he acknowledged with a nod.

"Are you disappointed that I'm not more...friendly...to you?" Her tone was cold and coy at the same time. He wasn't sure if she was flirting with him or insulting him, but he had a feeling it was the latter.

"I'd rather you were less friendly with everyone," he told her seriously.

"Ah, jealousy," she nodded wisely.

"I am not jealous," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Your sexual advances to half the crew has made the average workday unbearable for some."

"Well, then," she replied calmly. "I'll be sure and make advances to the other half so they don't feel left out."

They stopped before the door. "That's not what I meant!" he burst out. "Besides, I don't think you'll have the opportunity." He pushed the button to open the door.

Andie puckered her lips and blew him a kiss. "There's always time, sugar," she purred before stepping inside.


	23. Chapter 23

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

It was obvious from the start that this was not going to be pleasant. Archer was pacing at the head of the room, a large vein throbbing in his temple. T'Pol sat quietly on one side of the conference table, and across from her Trip chewed his lip and looked like he was going to be sick.

Muscles tensed in her shoulders and started on the makings of a genuine migraine, but her face remained passive. "You wanted to see me, Captain?" she inquired gently.

Archer grunted and pointed a stern finger. "Sit!" he barked. She moved in front of him and pulled up a chair next to Commander Tucker who barely looked at her.

"I didn't get a satisfactory answer the last time I asked this, so I'll ask it again," Archer was so mad his eyes glinted in the dim light of the long room. "Where did you learn to speak Klingon?"

Shrugging her shoulders and drawing a deep lungful of air, Andie answered softly. "I was trapped on a slow moving freighter."

"Which freighter?" Reed inquired, not nearly as satisfied watching her jump before the captain's substantial anger as he thought he would be.

"I don't remember," she answered vaguely.

"Answer me!" Archer banged his fist on the table and everyone jumped.

"I have no further answers for you," she answered quietly. His over-the-top performance was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"I want to know why you sent a coded message to a Klingon statesman and why he sent one back!" Archer's face was red now.

"I'm not sure I understand," she looked at him closely, confused.

"A transmission was sent from the communications array yesterday, when the ships were closing in on Enterprise! It was sent to Qo'nos!"

"You mentioned that in Sickbay and I told you—"

He cut her off. "You lied to me!"

"What makes you say that?"

"This!" he spun around and pressed a button to activate the video screen.

An older Klingon male glanced over both shoulders before leaning in to the camera. He spoke gruffly in the Klingon language. Ensign Sato's recent upgrades to the UT allowed a translation to be heard in English.

"_Doctor Brainerd, I had not expected to hear from you again. I was under the impression that our communications had ended some time ago._

_In a private conversation with me, my son, Durmak, refused the rites of adulthood, citing them as brutal and barbaric. I had no choice but to send him away. Life outside the homeworld is not what he expected it to be. He and his friends have taken an oath to fight with Klingon honor until they are reunited with their clansmen. _

_It is good that you informed me of their location when your ship came into contact with them_._ I have sent them instructions to give up this dishonorable lifestyle and come home again. They should be leaving soon._

_For the second time you have assisted me. I owe you a debt. You will consider it repaid when I do not send troops to your location to usurp the mining rights of the colonists living in our sector. I hope this concludes our business._

_K'adio, my friend."_

Archer turned. "Malcolm and I went into the communications station and found this message waiting for us on the computer. After it was transferred to a padd., a countdown began, ending with the destruction of the array. All other evidence of the Klingons is gone! How can you sit there and tell me you know nothing?"

"I can't add anything further," she told him. "Maybe you should contact the Klingon and ask him what he was talking about." Her tone was polite, and her face showed no sign of remorse.

"You sent a message to the Klingons and then you scrambled up the side of the mountain where you took out two Klingons all by yourself!"

"Is that a question or a statement?" she asked.

"How is that possible? You had to be forced into phase pistol training and all of a sudden you're proficient enough at combat to take out two superior enemy forces by yourself?"

"The definition of superior leaves a lot to be desired," she disagreed politely.

Looking at her as she sat slouched in her seat, her head barely cleared Commander Tucker's shoulder. She may have dropped an enemy in Engineering, but it had taken a toll on her physically, as the bruises on her neck testified. It was hard to believe that in the dead of night, she used covert tactics to bring two large healthy Klingons down by herself.

Malcolm might have thought he was wrong about her if it weren't for her clenched fists tucked into the crook of her arms. She had a habit of assuming this posture when she was hiding something.

"Perhaps you'll remember something more after you've spent some time in the brig," Reed threatened darkly.

"I would ask a favor first," she inquired politely of Archer, not even fazed at the idea of being locked up.

"You want a favor?" Archer's face was red and the vein on his forehead throbbed.

"I'd like to stop by Sickbay on the way to the brig. Phlox will need to care for the cats while I'm away, and I'd like to turn the instructions for the greenhouse over to one of the med-techs there. I think Liz will be able to handle the job. Her primary interests in exobiology should come in handy."

"This isn't the time to be making demands, Andie," Trip muttered tightly from his seat next to hers.

"You'll have to make a report to Admiral Gardiner about my incarceration, and I'm sure he'll send a ship for me. You won't have to worry about making an effort for too much longer." That last sentence held a great deal of bite.

"You won't defend yourself?" Trip asked. "You have nothing further to say about any of this?" He waved a hand around the room.

Andie looked up him, her face carefully expressionless. She rested a hand on his elbow. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Trip jerked his arm away. "I'm sure you are. Ever'body's always sorry for somethin'." His drawl carried a wistful note as he rose from the table. "If it's all right with you, Cap'n, I'd like to escort Andie to Sickbay and then to the brig."

Too angry to speak, Archer just nodded.

"Sir," Malcolm rose. "I have a pair of wrist cuffs." He started to reach for them.

"That won't be necessary," Andie rose and stood next to the engineer. "I won't do anything to injure Commander Tucker."

"He is the only crewman she holds in such high regard, Captain," T'Pol noted softly. She indicated that Reed should put away the cuffs.

Enraged at her audacity, Archer could only huff. "If you try anything..."

"Yeah, yeah," Andie muttered. "You, me, airlock; I know the drill." She swept past him, Trip following closely.

* * *

In the corridor outside, Trip walked stiffly beside her.

"You're still antagonizing the captain," he remarked.

"I guess I never learn," she replied.

"You think Admiral Gardiner will get you out of this?"

"I don't know what he'll do."

"But the consequences don't matter? None of this matters?" His tone grew hot with anger.

The question seemed to surprise her. "I'm not sure I know what matters," she answered so quietly he almost had to tip his head closer to hear. "Maybe nothing matters."

"Well, you're in a heap of trouble," he told her, uncertain in the face of her nihilistic concerns. "You'd better figure out what matters to you or you'll spend the rest of you career on the wrong side of prison bars."

"Well," she smiled wryly, "at least I'd know people there."

* * *

They stopped in her cabin to gather up the cats, then went to Sickbay to drop them off and gather up Crewman Cutler. They went to the greenhouse where Andie handed over several pads full of technical information. "If you have any trouble, ask Bowman. He's been very helpful," Andie told her, ignoring Cutler's wrinkled nose at the troubled Ensign's name. The doctor also clicked on the computer link, bringing Dr. Colt back to the screen.

"Twice in one day! It's like Christmas!" he joked. He sobered when she offered the barest of details and introduced him to the new greenhouse keeper. "Andie!" he shook his head in reproach.

"Don't start with me, kid," she told him sternly. "I can take care of myself." She cut off the link.

"Clearly!" The chief of security's British tone added an audible sneer to Colt's concern. "Are you ready for your new quarters, Doctor?" He gestured that she should precede him out the door.

Laying a hand on Trip's arm as she passed, Andie looked up into his troubled face. "You've been good to me, Trip. I wish I could be good to you."

Swallowing hard, he glared at her. "You brought this on yourself."

To his surprise, she snickered. "Yes, I did." Shaking her head in bemusement she stepped into the hallway and into a MACO escort. "Hello, boys!" she greeted them cheerfully, falling into step as four men walked her to the brig.

"I don't understand her," Trip peered after her.

"You have the worst luck with women," Malcolm told him, a sardonic look in his eye. "I don't think you understand them at all."

Trip eyed Malcolm sourly. "I think the events of our alternate timeline prove that I know them better than you, Mister Eternal Bachelor!" He gestured at the departing guard. "At least now we know why!"

Malcolm glowered. "She brought this on herself," he added defensively.

"It would easier to believe if you didn't enjoy locking her up!" Trip retorted. "I'm going to Engineering. Try not to use undue force on the little girl!" With that parting shot, Trip stepped into the turbo-lift with a heavy heart and went back to the engine room where all the pieces fit together and the world still made sense.

"Locking her up is my job!" Malcolm spit at the closed doors.

* * *

Reed returned to the Armory where he threw himself into the repairs of the photon torpedo launch mechanism that had been damaged in the Klingon battle, actually going so far as to remove the crewman already under the machine and sliding under himself.

He sighed and wondered, not for the first time, why Doctor Brainerd would know anything about Klingons.

Lieutenant Truax answered, making Malcolm cringe at his unaccustomed display of talking to himself. Luckily she thought he'd been talking to her. "I'm sure the doctor has seen many things outside of our knowledge," she answered.

"I doubt that, Lieutenant," he grunted, pushing against a sticky bolt with a useless tool.

"Well, he has been in space much longer than we have, sir. I'm sure he's seen things we haven't discovered." She handed him a sonic wrench.

"She's barely got through school!" he protested. Her words filtered to his brain and he slid out from under the mechanism. "You're talking Doctor Brainerd, Senior," he realized.

"Yes, sir." Understanding dawned. "You're talking about Doctor Andie," she clarified.

"Power's coming through the relays now, sir!" called the crewman Reed had sent to monitor the progress.

"You do good work, Lieutenant," Reed told her as she offered a hand to help him to his feet.

"Thank you, sir," Truax replied. "I'm sure I owe all my successes to you, sir." Her eyes twinkled.

They stood together, marveling over the working machine. "You must look forward to being in charge of your own Armory," he teased her. "You'll never have to kiss up to anyone again."

"Yes, sir," she agreed evenly. "That will be a joyous day, sir." They chuckled together.

He hesitated. "I need to send a communication. I've left you in charge all day, but if you don't mind...?"

"Take care of your business, sir," Truax nodded. "We've got the repairs under control." She handed him a padd with the repair updates. Reed wasn't surprised to find so many things accomplished. Truax was a good officer.

"I'm surprised Starfleet hasn't attempted to woo you away to Columbia's crew," he marveled.

"Actually, Lieutenant, they have." She answered, staring straight ahead in a rigid military stance.

An ache centered in the pit of his stomach. "I guess you'll be getting a team of your own sooner rather than later," he acknowledged.

"Perhaps, sir," she nodded. "I haven't made a decision yet."

"You'll have a glowing recommendation from me if you need it, Lieutenant," he told her with a heavy heart. He didn't begrudge her the chance to advance her career; it just didn't seem fair that he was still here.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Reed," she answered formally. She nodded at the clock. "You might want to send that letter before everyone at Starfleet goes home, sir."

"What makes you think I'm contacting Starfleet?" he grumbled, worried about his own predictability.

"Who else do you contact, sir?" The question was obviously rhetorical as she snapped off a salute, and crossed the room to review the work on the other torpedo housing.

* * *

Reed returned to his quarters and thumbed through the database, and all the news archives he could get his hands on. His intent this time was to find all the information he could about Doctor Andre Brainerd.

It was disappointing to discover that most of the news articles contained as much myth as fact. His departure from Earth was heralded as the most exciting thing humans had ever conceived and his accomplishments were emphasized and exaggerated until it was difficult to know where reality departed from fiction.

She was just like her father, apparently, he decided. He changed clothes and headed to the gym for a long run on the treadmill before dinner.


	24. Chapter 24

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

Early the next morning, Malcolm was alerted to a communication from Earth. Apparently Admiral Gardiner didn't waste any time responding to the latest report. Archer commanded Reed to bring Andie to the conference room as soon as he was dressed.

He found her in the brig filled with MACO's. The ones who couldn't fit inside were crowded in the adjoining cell or spilling into the hall.

"This maneuver is faulty. It doesn't work often, certainly not on respected professionals. It would never work on Reed, who I'm sure never fails to secure his weapon. It's aimed mostly at green members in the thick of their first battle." She instructed them from behind her enclosure.

She tugged at her pant legs to give her more room, and swung one leg in a tight kick for the men standing on the other side of the transparent wall. One man held his arms akimbo, and the holster at his side was emptied as a swarthy man named Panucci asked her to gauge his form while he demonstrated the kick that she'd performed in Engineering to remove the disruptor from the Klingon.

There was a smattering of cheers and smiles from the men in the group. She encouraged him to try the maneuver again slowly. She fit right in with this rough group of men, Reed thought. Malcolm felt left out as he watched them spar.

One man recognized the lieutenant and called for attention. All the men snapped to, but Andie merely looked at the doorway. One icy glare and the room emptied quickly.

"Lieutenant," she greeted him.

"Your presence is requested in the conference room immediately," he told her stiffly as he released the catch on the door.

"Do I have a moment to change into my uniform?" she asked, stepping over to his side.

"You mean, you aren't wearing it now?" he sneered at her preference for wearing scrubs at work.

She didn't rise to the bait, merely shrugged and remained quiet.

"Lead on," she gestured with one hand.

"After you," he refuted. "I insist."

His tone was crisp and there was a hint of a gloat under his smirk. Obviously whatever he was here for wasn't a good thing for her.

* * *

Andie was escorted to the Conference Room but slowed her progress as she entered. Archer paced at the head of the room, Trip and T'Pol sat across from each other at the conference table and Reed took a seat on this side next to the Vulcan. The view screen held the image of an old friend.

"Hey, Admiral," she greeted the bushy-haired man. "How's it going?" Her tone was cautious. Every detail indicated that something awful was about to happen.

"Now is not the time for levity, Doctor," he growled.

If he was calling her by her title, then she was in very big trouble indeed. She crossed slowly in front of the captain and took a seat next to Tucker as she had done yesterday. The placement of people at the table made her feel trapped. Maybe that's why they did it, she realized. Maybe they were there to stop her from fleeing. One look at Reed's chilly gaze was all the confirmation she really needed.

"What have I done now?" she inquired of the too quiet room.

"You have been nothing but trouble since you came on board! You've withheld information! You've assaulted a fellow officer!" Archer's voice whipped through the room like a striking snake.

"When did I assault...?" She looked at Reed's face and understanding dawned. "Reed? I told you that was an accident!"

"You assaulted someone on accident?" Gardiner intoned gruffly.

"Reed was teaching me to fire a phase pistol! I got flustered and it went off! It was a blank cartridge; he barely felt it!" She protested for what felt like the millionth time.

"Barely?" Reed jumped to his feet. "My posterior still aches!"

"Sit down!" Archer commanded, and the lieutenant reluctantly complied. "She's colluding with the enemy!" he burst out.

"Colluding?" Gardiner repeated.

"Enemy?" Andie asked.

"She's been in communication with the Klingons!" Archer bellowed.

"To what purpose?" Gardiner asked. His glare intensified as he looked at Andie.

"She told them where to find us!" Reed burst out, earning another sharp look from Archer.

"You've been attacked?" Gardiner tried to clarify.

"Actually it appears that Doctor Brainerd called in the authorities to remove the marauding Klingons from the Erlath world," T'Pol admitted calmly. She had the beginning of a headache, inspired by Archer's excessive volume.

"So she saved you?" Gardiner shrugged, with another baleful glance at the doctor.

"Yes, I've been very naughty," she snapped, earning a dark look from the man in charge.

"She speaks Klingon!" Archer repeated, not understanding why Gardiner wasn't comprehensive of the magnitude of this knowledge.

"Good for her," Gardiner replied dryly.

"It is an uncommon dialect!" Archer continued.

"So update your translation program," was the only reply.

"Where did she learn it?" Archer shouted, leaning on the table and almost spitting in Andie's face with the force of his question.

"Did you ask her?" Gardiner replied, this time his tone sharpening.

"She claimed she learned Klingon while trapped on a freighter, but she refused to give the name of the ship," Archer snapped.

"Andie?" Gardiner looked at Andie and moment passed between them. Archer had a moment of paranoia when he thought they were communicating behind his back.

"The freighter was designated the _Ellysia,_" she said the name quietly, staring at the Admiral.

"I've never heard of the _Ellysia_," Trip broke in, adding his first comment to the tense proceedings.

T'Pol was tapping on a padd in front of her. "There is no ship by that name in the Vulcan, Denobulan or Starfleet databases," she announced.

Andie looked pointedly at Gardiner, who was silent for a moment.

"I have no idea how many languages you speak, Captain. Chalk it up to serendipity and call it a day." Gardiner was suddenly busy pulling lint off his sleeve. "She'll be off your ship in a few months."

"She's a liar," Archer insisted. "I can't have someone on board that I don't trust!"

"Well, I trust her!" Gardiner's face flushed and he started shouting in earnest. "I would stake my reputation on her capability as a doctor! Hell, I'd stake my life on her competence! You should learn to do the same! It's one thing to pick a ship full of your friends and claim to lead them, but you didn't even put up this much fuss when you were saddled with a Vulcan for a first officer, and look how well that turned out for you!"

Archer looked over his shoulder at T'Pol.

"If you can't make this position work with one of the most competent professionals I've ever met then it might be time to look back at your service record!" His fury was palpable even across light years of space.

Andie squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head forward. This wasn't going anyplace good.

"How many times did your arrogance, your refusal to play by the rules destabilize a sector, or antagonize hostile cultures? How many times did something bad happen because you aren't a team player?" Gardiner was beginning to spit as his volume increased.

"Admiral." Andie spoke quietly, inviting the gaze of everyone in the room, including one stunned captain. She met Gardiner's eye and shook her head. It seemed to rein him in. He took a deep breath and continued in a more appropriate tone.

"Doctor Brainerd has proven her abilities to Starfleet on many occasions. Her discretion in sensitive matters is paramount to the work she does."

"What the hell does that mean?" Archer spat.

"It means that there are many things in her background that are classified! They are off limits even to the captain she serves under! You will not badger her to reveal her sources! You will not withhold opportunities from her! She will continue to serve out her assignment on your ship without prejudice and I don't want to hear anymore belly aching from you about it!" Gardiner was red in the face by the time he finished.

"You expect me to leave this spy on board my ship?" Archer asked, incredulous.

"No! I expect you to do your job and let Andie do hers!"

Archer made to object further but Gardiner put up a hand to stop him. "This matter is closed! Dismissed!" He took a deep breath. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Andie alone for a moment."

At the end of the Admiral's rampage, Jon's lips were pressed so tightly together that they completely disappeared from his face. "Yes, sir!" he snapped off a sarcastic salute and indicated that the others should follow him into the hall.

Trip and T'Pol were happy to escape and slipped quickly out the nearest doors. Archer glared once more at Gardiner and Andie before waving out a sullen, frozen Reed. Malcolm took his time pushing back from the table while eyeing Andie steadily. When they were finally gone, Andie dropped her neck back in her chair and studied the ceiling, letting out a deep sigh.

"As if I don't have enough problems with the man, you threaten his job?" she sighed. "That was smooth." Opening her eyes and raising her head, she stared at the video image of the man on screen. "I told you this was a bad idea. I told you this wouldn't work!"

Gardiner looked at her with amusement creasing the corners of his eyes. "You shot their security chief in the butt?"

"It was an accident," she repeated again. "He was teaching me to shoot a phase pistol and..."

Gardiner barked out laughter. "He was teaching you to shoot?"

"Apparently whatever dim bulb created my background did a piss poor job," she countered coolly. "There are so many holes in it, I could fly the NX-01 through 'em. He should be fired, then possibly shot." This last was added with irritation. "I'd like to do it myself, but..."

"I would much more amenable to these little chats, if I actually thought that you were making an effort," Gardiner fixed her with a less amused look.

"What do you want from me? This crew is tight. They just came back from fighting a war together. They haven't got over the events of the last year and you think you can just throw someone new in their midst? It was a stupid idea!"

"Andie, remember who you're talking to," Gardiner growled.

She immediately brought out a more respectful tone, even if the content remained offensive. "Nobody is more surprised than me to find that Archer isn't nearly as dumb as he looks, but this isn't working! I can't do my job like this."

"You'll find a way," he assured her. "You always do."

"The moment I leave this room I'll be escorted to the brig," she told him with certainty.

"They wouldn't do that!"

"Have you met Reed?" she looked at him with raised eyebrows. "He's just that paranoid. I can't do my job like this! There has to be a better way."

"What do you propose?"

"You know what I want," she countered with an even look. "Truth is a better policy than lies."

"I can't offer truth without the others," he sighed heavily. "They won't be persuaded easily."

"You told me that nothing good is ever easy."

"You have to do something for me," he retorted with a stern look. That look had made grown men shiver in fear, but Andie just glared back at him. "You have to try and make this work. There aren't many options left. You don't have anywhere else to go."

"That," she replied darkly, "is where you're wrong."

* * *

A few minutes later when she appeared at the door to the conference room, she found Archer and Reed standing with two MACO guards. "Gardiner will speak to you again later this evening," she told Archer. He acknowledged her report sullenly before barking out orders.

"You will be escorted to your quarters," Archer growled. "You will remain there. You will not interact with other crew members."

"I have duties aboard this ship," she reminded him gently.

"You will be escorted to the greenhouse every day, but you will work alone." His tone allowed for no further argument. "Unless," he offered, "you'd like to tell me what that was all about." He nodded to the room they'd just vacated.

She looked at him, troubled. "Would you remind Chef to bring something for the cats in the morning?" she asked. "I'd hate to keep them under Phlox's care. They can be a bit of trouble."

Her refusal to save herself aggravated Archer. He nodded to the MACO's who moved to flank her as she was preceded down the hall by Reed.

He may not able to throw her off his ship, but he didn't have to let her roam around it. Archer went back to his duties.

* * *

After securing the doctor, Reed stopped by the Captain's quarters to play back the recording he'd been authorized to make. When Andie told Gardiner that Archer wasn't as dumb as he looked, Jon frowned. He was surprised that she begged for honesty and was doubly surprised that Gardiner was the one who sealed her lips.

He grew thoughtful. "Thanks, Malcolm," he tossed off careless praise. "I'm sorry to have to make you spy on one of our own."

"With all due respect, sir," Malcolm answered stiffly. "She's not one of our own."

"We've placed her under house arrest and restricted her access to the ship," Archer sighed. "I don't want her near anything sensitive until I know what she's hiding." The decision weighed heavier on his chest than he expected.

"Would that include Sickbay, sir? She could do a lot of damage there."

"Do it." Confining her to quarters didn't sound like something that Gardiner would approve of, but as a captain he regretfully agreed.

"How's the background check coming?"

Malcolm pursed his lips. "The mere fact that it's taking this long is significant, sir. It shouldn't be this hard to discover the history of anyone in Starfleet. My source will check back in when there's something to report."

"I never thought we'd lock up one of our team," Archer sighed. The act of locking up the doctor, who hadn't protested at all, in fact had admitted in her private conversation that she expected it, had upset him. It was an action he didn't think he'd ever have to make.

"Again, sir," Malcolm replied. "She's not one of ours. She never was." He saluted and left the captain to his thoughts.

"Maybe that's the problem," he sighed to himself. Porthos lay a head on his master's knee and Jon absently stroked the soft head.

* * *

Malcolm was on his way back to his quarters. It had been a very long shift and he'd just been on his way to the gym to relax when he remembered that Hoshi had stopped him yesterday as he exited the brig full of Klingons to tell him she wanted to speak with him further. Rolling his neck to relive some of the tension, he stopped at her door and pressed the button to announce his presence. From inside he heard a giggle. It was joined by several giggles and a squeal.

Hoshi opened the door, looking very fetching in a pair of pink floral pajamas. She wore a matching boa around her neck. "Malcolm!" she giggled, and the tell-tale flush on her cheeks indicated that she'd been imbibing something.

"If this is a bad time, Ensign, I can come back," he smirked, daring to peek around her.

"Nope!" she assured him, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside. "It's a little perfect actually."

Her cabin was littered with crewmates. Lieutenant Commander Hess, a petite dark-skinned woman who worked closely with Trip in Engineering, wore gold pajamas under a black silk robe. On the back of the robe was a colorful growling tiger. Ensign Caffrey of the science department wore a long cotton nightshirt with alarmingly colored knee socks. Her hair was pulled into two ponytails giving her the appearance of a twelve year old girl. At Malcolm's entrance she blushed and pulled on a thick terry cloth robe. He was surprised to find Corporal Parsons there as well, wearing a tank top and loose pants and painting her toenails an offensive shade of green. Catching sight of the security officer she struggled to her feet to salute, ignoring the cotton tucked between each toe.

"As you were," he hastened to reassure them all. They sat stiffly.

"It's a slumber party, sir," Caffrey offered awkwardly. She held up a plate. "Would you like a piece of cake?"

"No, thank you," he declined, feeling all the eyes upon him. "I should be going." He tried to slip back out the door, but Hoshi stopped him.

"You wanted information about Andie," she reminded him, her words slurring just a little. "We've got it."

"Remember the Girl's Night Out?" Parsons raised an eyebrow under her long dark hair.

"If he's going to stay here, he's got to follow the rules," Hess broke in. She sipped from her tumbler and eyed the lieutenant.

"I shouldn't be intruding here in Hoshi...Ensign Sato's...quarters," he squirmed uncomfortably.

"I am superior to your rank, Lieutenant," Hess emphasized the title, "So you're covered. And we can all act as chaperones."

"Besides," Parsons grinned wickedly, "your reputation could use a little besmirching."

"Cake, Malcolm?" Caffrey used his first name and smiled too innocently as she offered the plate of chocolate treat again. "You know you want it," she assured him coyly.

"Why do I feel like I just stumbled into a snare?" he asked to no one in particular, but the question was followed by a round of naughty giggles. Hands reached up and dragged him into the room. A pillow was found to cushion his weight on the floor. A mug was pressed into his hand, along with the previously offered plate. He found he was glad he was wearing loose cotton clothing the better to contort his body to a comfortable position.

"We were just about to start the mani-pedis," Hoshi beamed. "Later we'll give each other facials."

"I think he's got dry skin," Hess started digging around in a bag and handed over a tube. "That'll cure the dry patches under your chin and at your hairline.

"No, really..." he protested. He wasn't even sure he knew what a mani-pedi was, let alone if he wanted one.

"If you want to stay, you must participate," Hoshi told him sternly, taking his left hand in hers after removing the plate. "You can't tell anyone what you heard here."

"No chance of that," he muttered, warily eyeing the circling predators.

"And tonight we're all equal," Parsons interjected. "No rank."

"Here, here!" Hoshi grinned and sipped from her mug before attacking his hand with an emery board.

Malcolm sighed. The things he would do to keep this ship safe.

* * *

Three hours later Lieutenant Reed had heard more gossip about his crewmates than he had heard in the previous three years. If the idle suppositions were correct, the Enterprise was just a love shack traveling through libidinous space creating electrical charges among every member of the crew, who acted on those urges as though they were taking part in an autumn bacchanal.

He also wore a lavender paste on his face that Hess assured him would rejuvenate those 'dry follicles' and all twenty of his digits had been buffed and shaped into neat ovals. At present, Ensign Caffrey sat on the floor at his feet and he patiently brushed the russet curls as Hess put the final touches of polish on Caffrey's hands.

"So she doesn't talk about her father. That's not strange," he slurred. Whatever Irish magic they used in the coffee was making the tension seep out of his shoulders. "I don't talk about my father."

"Yes, but that's because your father didn't give you warmth and affection," Parsons offered earnestly. He was surprised at the shy sincerity outside the Armory because she was a particularly deadly MACO with a pistol in her hands.

"Yes, you never learned how to love." Caffrey turned around to reassure him. "We like you anyway."

"Thank you." He smirked at her and used his hand to turn her head back around. Continuing to brush, he watched Hoshi choose another audio clip from her selection, and the music continued again. "Why should she speak about her father?"

"He's famous," Hoshi broke out. "It's hard to carry on a conversation with her without being reminded of his accomplishments. She has a way of agreeing with your comment and then turning the conversation around." She was refilling the coffee pot with careful hands. She caught Malcolm staring at her. "It's weird," she added defensively.

"She doesn't talk about her childhood either," Parsons broke in. "When you ask her she always turns the question back to _your_ childhood."

Malcolm still looked curiously lost.

"It means she's a good listener but not such a good talker," Hess added, somewhat more clearly than the others. "She doesn't want to talk about her childhood. I don't think it was a happy one."

"How do you know?" He accepted the fresh mug and sipped freely.

Hess shrugged. "Just a feeling." She squirmed into a more comfortable position. "My father used to down a bottle of wine and take after us kids with the empties. I never told anyone about it until I was in college." She looked embarrassed. "Andie reminds me of me. Like that."

"She's very bottled up," Caffrey nodded energetically, causing Malcolm to steady her head with his hand. Pushing away his hands, she shifted her position away from his feet.

"Your turn," Hoshi indicated that he should sit on the floor. She took the place on the bunk and began massaging the tension out of his shoulders while Parsons offered a warm, wet cloth to rub the lavender goo off his face.

"You think her father was a drunk?" he thought out loud.

"Maybe," Hess shrugged. She looked at Parsons. "You better tell him the rest though. He's about relaxed enough now."

"Tell me what?" he asked, trying to stay focused and alert, but the strange brew he'd been drinking was making that difficult.

Parsons dropped her eyes to her lap and sighed. Raising her eyes, she stated clearly. "She knew Hayes."

"She...what?" Malcolm's jaw was in his lap.

"When the Xindi attacked, one hundred of the most promising candidates were sent to the looney..er, lunar colony for survival training. The best two dozen became the MACO's. Andie was one of the doctors on the lunar colony. At the farewell feast, she and Hayes disappeared for several hours." Her dark eyes told what her lips would not; that clearly the doctor had a relationship with the late Major Hayes.

"Mmm...Hayes was yummy," Caffrey nodded drunkenly as she dabbed at Reed's face with a cotton ball of something that made his skin pucker.

"Good kisser," Hoshi added affirmatively. All four women paused to remember the handsome man as Malcolm squirmed around to look at the quiet linguist.

"He was a good...? You kissed...? What the hell is happening to the discipline on this ship!" His outburst was followed by girlish giggles.

"We made out a little at the Holiday party last December," Hoshi grinned, her cheeks flushed. "Mistletoe is wonderful!" she sighed.

"So was that Yule punch," Hess added dryly. Hoshi nodded fervently.

"He had strong, smooth lips..."

"Stop!" Malcolm struggled to stand. "I don't want to hear anymore about it! No more kissing!"

"You could use a good...kiss," Parsons added in a loud whisper to Hess, who chuckled.

"Andie looks like she has smooth lips," Caffrey agreed, giggling.

"I said no more kissing!" Malcolm stamped his bare foot, twirling around, trying to find his other shoe.

Hoshi looked thoughtful. "That might explain a lot," she looked at the other ladies who nodded knowingly.

"Explain what?" Malcolm hissed. "I don't have any interest in kissing Doctor Brain-dead!"

His fervent snub of Andie indicating an urge to kiss the doctor is exactly what she'd been thinking but Hoshi looked demurely at Reed and rebutted, "I was talking about Andie's proficiency in battle. If she knew Hayes, maybe he taught her a little something..." she let her voice trail off and his imagination take over.

Huffing from his sudden exertions, Malcolm stood for a moment in the middle of the narrow room, waiting for the spinning sensation to stop. "I don't think that Major Hayes' private life is something we should be discussing."

"What? Now that he's dead?" Parsons broke in.

For her trouble Malcolm pinned her with an icy stare. "Let's keep gossip and hearsay off this ship," he remarked stiffly. "We shouldn't sully the reputation of a good man who can't defend his actions." He pulled the pink boa from around his neck and returned it to Hoshi. "Thank you for the lovely evening, but I have to be going now."

Turning to leave, he miscalculated the distance to the door and walked straight into a bulkhead. Grunting in pain, his fierce glare dared the ladies to laugh at his clumsiness. They sat silent and wide-eyed. Finally he hit the button and stumbled out into the corridor.

After a moment of silence, Hess broke in. "He could use a really...big...kiss," she nodded. The others nodded.

Hoshi watched the closed door for a moment, calculating the rumors she'd heard. She sighed. "Let's get cleaned up for tomorrow's shift," she smiled. "We should do this again sometime."

There were affirmative giggles all around.


	25. Chapter 25

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Author's Note: This takes place during the Season Four episode, _Daedalus_. Happy Reading!

* * *

Malcolm woke up with the granddaddy of all hangovers. He rolled to his side and immediately regretted making the decision to move. Painfully, he rose and dragged his aching body into the bathroom and coaxed it under a steaming spray of water. As soon as he was dressed he headed to Sickbay.

Phlox greeted him with less than his usual enthusiasm, dropping a leaf into a cage that gurgled and growled before moving to intercept the ailing man. "What seems to be troubling you, Lieutenant?"

"Headache," Malcolm winced. He watched Phlox wave a scanner over his form and dreaded the follow up questions.

"Nausea, dizziness, sensitivity to light and sound?" Phlox reeled off a list of symptoms.

"Yes," Malcolm nodded carefully. Crewman Cutler entered and her apple-scented shampoo wrapped around his nose and threatened to toss the contents of his stomach upwards. "Smells, too."

"You are what your crewmen refer to as 'hang overed,'" Phlox announced, filling a hypo.

"Hung over," Malcolm corrected him. "Yes, Doctor," he added meekly.

Pressing the relief to the man's neck, Phlox clucked his tongue. "Doctor Andie has a much more efficient cure, if you'd like to stop by and see her this morning. I understand she won't be in the lab today?"

If Malcolm didn't know better, he thought that someone might actually miss that wretched woman. The thought of her made his stomach clench, a bad idea at the moment. His jaw clenched to hold back the natural impulse to vomit. "I don't believe it will be necessary," he told the physician carefully.

"As you wish," Phlox acknowledged. "She's a fine doctor, and has a way with this particular ailment." One arching eyebrow spoke volumes that might have stopped a lesser man in his tracks, but the Denobulan was never one to shy away from awkward encounters. "I understand that hostility is sometimes a sign of the mating urge in humans." The idea seemed to cheer Phlox enormously.

"This is not a mating urge," Malcolm growled, hopping off the bio-bed. "This is about maintaining the safety of this ship!" He straightened his posture, feeling slightly less ill and started for the door. "Thank you, Doctor."

Crewman Culter appeared at Phlox's elbow. "Yup," she confirmed. "He's extremely hostile." She kept her voice low until Malcolm exited the double doors.

They exchanged significantly amused glances and got back to work, Phlox humming as he fed his creatures.

* * *

In the Mess Hall, Malcolm cursed the nudge from a petite brunette. Hoshi grinned at him unrepentantly. "Did you sleep well, Lieutenant?"

"Don't grin at me, Ensign. I know you're evil incarnate," Malcolm grimaced, cradling his coffee.

She chuckled. "You should stop by Sickbay and get something for that headache."

"I was already there," he winced. "Phlox tried to send me to Doctor Brainerd."

"Doctor Andie is a wizard with the hangover remedy," Ensign Caffrey smiled from his other elbow. "Good morning, Lieutenant," she chirped cheerfully.

He glared down at the russet haired woman. "For the record, you are vile and wretched."

"For the record, you look fabulous!" she chuckled, filling her plate with fruit and yogurt. Winking at the suffering man, she left to find a table.

"You'll have to drink that on the run, Malcolm," Trip sighed heavily as he reached the buffet. "Cap'n wants to see us all in the Conference Room right away." He filled his own mug with coffee and added milk and sugar.

"What has the doctor done now?" the ill man grumbled.

Trip shot Malcolm a dirty look. "Not everything is about Andie Brainerd, you know," he grumbled, scooping up a piece of toast and eating it dry. He did a double take. "What's this?" Reaching out two fingers like pincers, he pulled a sticky lavender substance from Malcolm's neck.

Reed snatched the tell-tale goo from the commander's hand. "It's nothing, just a little lubricant I was trying out, uh, in the armory. It got everywhere." He ducked his throbbing head and hoped Trip didn't notice the blush he could feel creeping along his cheekbones. "I don't think I'll be using it again."

Beside him Hoshi snickered but buried her face in a mug of tea when Malcolm glared at her.

"Mmhmm," Trip was busy balancing his coffee and his toast which he buttered while standing up and didn't pay any attention to the stern glare and unrepentant smile of the pair next to him.

"Morning!" Mayweather bounded up to the buffet. "It's going to be a great day!" He caught sight of Malcolm's pallor. "Did you do something different to your hair today, Lieutenant?"

"No." Self-consciously Malcolm smoothed a hand over his regulation haircut.

"Well, you look good," Mayweather placed a sausage inside a pancake, topped it with eggs and dribbled syrup over the entire thing before rolling it like a burrito and popping the end into his mouth. With his free hand he scooped up a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk.

Malcolm decided that the worst place to stand when hung over was right behind the biggest eater on the ship. He cursed the sweet beverage that brought him this low. By sheer force of will, he demanded that his body contain everything it currently held and marched toward the Conference Room. He was going to get through this.

* * *

Captain Archer gleefully announced that Starfleet Command had contacted Enterprise and was sending them on an important mission. It seemed that his old friend Doctor Emory Erickson was going to be joining them as he had finally, after years of research, begun to test the limits of sub-quantum teleportation. The scientist and his daughter would be boarding _Enterprise_ soon, and there were several adjustments that needed to be made for the scientific tests.

Jon was relieved to host such an important event; it was good for _Enterprise_. It was also good for him. Emory was like family to him, and it would be a relief to have someone near to help him make sense of the puzzle that was the new doctor. It was in moments like these that he missed his father most. He always thought there would be time to ask him questions and seek his guidance, but for now, Emory would satisfy Jon's need just fine.

Mayweather was instructed to change course, and make for Earth to receive the illustrious passengers. T'Pol and Tucker were dispatched to make the necessary alterations to the power grid, and the others were encouraged to spare energy whenever and wherever possible.

They were dismissed and went to their stations, eagerly anticipating the upcoming event. Except for Malcolm, who cursed the name of his nemesis with every throbbing pulse of pain that echoed through his head, especially after the captain complimented him on his glowing complexion.

* * *

_Bored. Bored. Bored._

The words echoed through her head. She'd been confined to quarters less than one day and already she was so bored, she was contemplating chewing off part of her arm just to get sent to Sickbay where she'd have somebody to talk to. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had nothing to do but sit. At the moment she sat in her desk chair which had been pulled to the middle of the room, and with a shove of her foot, sent the contraption spinning around as she stared at the ceiling, trying to count the holes in the grate above her without losing her place before she stopped spinning.

Andie was relieved when the doorbell chimed. The door slid open to reveal Ensign Bowman struggling with Crewman Svenson, the steward bringing her noon meal.

"I'll see that she gets it!" Henry tried pulling the tray out of the stubborn Swede's hands.

"Yah, I'll know she gets it vhen I give it to her!" he argued, trying to maintain his balance in the struggle.

"She could just take her own tray and neither of you would have to worry about it," Andie observed dryly with a raised eyebrow watching the two from the open door.

"It's my job," Svenson pointed out.

"It is," she agreed. She looked pointedly at Henry who reluctantly let go. Sven carried the tray inside, past the MACO struggling to hold his grin in check, and set it on her desk. "You got chowder and sourdough, yah, and I brought the kitties a little crab cake. They like crab cakes, yah?"

"Thank you, Sven," Andie smiled. Stepping forward she placed a kiss on the slender man's grizzled cheek and he blushed to receive the reward that had the entire kitchen staff fighting amongst themselves to bring meals to the doctor.

"I believe Henry will keep me company while I eat," she noted. Sven grumbled at the boy but left without further ado. She waved Henry in. "Is something wrong with the greenhouse?" She sat at his urging and dipped a spoon into the steaming bread bowl of thick corn and clam chowder.

"Everything's fine, except that you're not in it," Henry told her, keeping his back toward the open door for privacy. He handed her the data padd with the morning's work visible.

"I was unaware that you were allowed visitors." Reed's cranky voice cut through the quiet room. Josephine hissed and ran for her carrier tucked under the bed. Napoleon growled and lowered his ears as the armory officer came through the door. Henry Bowman leaped to his feet and assumed a rigid posture, as he received a curt dismissal. He waited for Andie's nod before slipping out the open door.

"I am allowed lunch and reports from the greenhouse," Andie replied evenly. She slid the cover over the top of her lunch knowing the odds were slim of eating it while it was hot.

"Are you allowed to kiss the cooks too?" Andie's lip gloss had been clearly visible on the steward's cheek as he passed the cook in the corridor.

"I don't recall any rules that allow Starfleet to tell me who I may or may not kiss," she told him with icy calm. Reaching out a hand, she stroked the orange head gently to stop his low growl.

"To that end, I've brought you something." Malcolm held out a stack of data pads. "These are security regulations and codes of conduct. It has come to my attention that you may not be familiar with all the rules on board ship, and it seems that you'll have the time to study them in some detail."

Andie accepted them with a smirk. "I hope there's something in the regs that will tell me how to remove that stick from your butt," she added sweetly.

Malcolm didn't say anything, just studied her face. What he'd heard was only gossip, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was true. Did she really carry on a torrid affair with Major Hayes?

"Take a picture, Sparky. It'll last longer," she added acerbically when he showed no sign of leaving, just stood there staring at her.

He jerked out of his thoughts. "I expect you to maintain a professional relationship with every member of the crew. That would require you to _not_ kiss every man you meet during the course of the day."

"I aim to please," she purred. "Why lookit that! Here I am _not_ kissing you right now!" The sarcasm nearly burned a hole in his ears as she affected a southern drawl, the better to sling her arrow with.

"Excellent!" he smirked. "Please continue with the good work!" He tipped her a salute and left.

Before the door closed, Chang tilted his head inside and raised an eyebrow at Andie. He couldn't resist the wicked grin at her silent fury before the sliding mechanism cut his face from her view. Once the door was closed she stuck her tongue out at the door, but there was nobody there to witness her bad behavior.

* * *

Emory was exactly as Jon remembered him; gruff, fierce, loyal. It made Archer ache for his own father. Seeing Emory around the ship, Jon couldn't help but remember late nights when he crept out of his own bed and wandered into the kitchen, where the great men of science were usually gathered around the table, mugs of coffee or beer at their hands, scraps of paper covered with formulas and grids scattered around, thinking up ways to make the world a better place, arguing passionately about their preferred projects.

Trip fidgeted at his side, excited to meet the man who had been like Archer's family for the first time. Danika was as lovely as ever and the four made their way to the guest quarters so the Ericksons could refresh themselves before dinner.

Emory turned around in his wheelchair and smiled widely at Archer. "I understand you're getting the Rogues Gallery back together!" At Jon's puzzled look he added, "I heard that the Archers and the Brainerds are working together again!"

Archer's smile froze just a bit, before he nodded. "Yes, Andrea Brainerd is spending some time on _Enterprise_. I'm afraid she may be too busy to join us for dinner though," he apologized smoothly.

"All we need now is a Tasaki to jump out of the woodwork and we'd have us a bunch of trouble just waiting to happen!" Emory guffawed loudly. Danika shared a weary smile with Tucker who chuckled in response.

"I remember when she was just a little bit of a thing," Emory held a hand up on level with his knee to show how small little Andie had been. "She was so serious and quiet. We talked all night, Andre and Henry and I, and forgot about her. She'd found a blanket and tucked herself into bed on the couch after brushing her teeth and reading her doll a story." He looked at Jon. "We used to have to tie you to your bed just so we could get some work done, but that was years ago."

"Cap'n Archer hasn't been tied to the bed in a while," Trip answered on behalf of his friend, grinning widely at his double entendre. Jon blushed and glared at Trip behind Emory's back.

This time Danika giggled openly at her friend's discomfort.

The four continued to the guest quarters chatting together.

* * *

Just before they left the last star-filled region of space, Archer had given Malcolm leave to blow up a couple of random asteroids in honor of the fourth of July. Both Malcolm and Archer took extra pains to ascertain that none of the asteroids carried a core of magnesite and the display was a big hit from the forward observation lounge.

Dinner was a pleasant affair in the Captain's Mess. Emory relived the hazards of early transporter mistakes, and reasserted that the sub-quantum teleportation device was the wave of the future. Jon made a joke about Emory putting him out of business. T'Pol made note that the Vulcans had not had much luck with their sub-quantum teleportation and Emory snickered that his work was progressing faster than theirs. He leaned back in his chair and remembered the arguments he had enjoyed with Henry Archer.

Danika smiled tensely at her dining companion. "He spends a lot of time reliving the past," she whispered to Trip, who nodded, enraptured at the evening.

"He had a lot of great moments to relive," he whispered back. He offered more wine, and she accepted with a guilty glance at her father.

"Andre Brainerd thought we should leave the aliens out of Earth's structure altogether," Emory was saying. "He came back from the Martian Colonies convinced that Starfleet was trying to regulate good honest citizens out of their history." He gestured emphatically with his fork. "I told him he should stick to medicine and leave the politics to the bureaucrats but he wouldn't listen. He said after what his family went through terra forming that rock, that he and his daughter deserved better. He said it was obvious that they were abandoned by the bastards who sought to plant them there and that they should all have their voices heard!" Emory's hand dropped loudly onto the table. "I told him that venture was foolhardy. He should have stayed on Earth."

Danika stood suddenly, knowing he was just working up a full head of steam. "I think we've had enough excitement for one night, Dad. Let's turn in and get ready for a big day tomorrow." She moved to pull his chair back from the table, ignoring her father's protests that he was feeling fine.

Jon reached out a hand as Emory was wheeled past. "Dr. Brainerd said that he and Andie were abandoned by Starfleet?" he queried. He learned more and more about her in the strangest places.

"It was right after they got back from the Donner site," he clarified, wrinkling his forehead to remember.

"I don't think Harry Donovan would appreciate hearing you call it that," Danika chided gently.

"He's dead! He doesn't care about anything anymore!" Emory protested. Danika made polite apologies and hustled her father out the door. T'Pol followed them as they left.

Trip looked curiously at Archer. "I thought the Donner site was a myth, something to make people listen to security protocols?"

"It's not a myth," Archer corrected him. "It's one of Starfleet's great tragedies." He looked curiously at the door through which his friends had just departed. "I can't believe Emory knows more about her than we do."

Trip looked out the window behind the captain, and tried to sound casual. "It's hard to get to know someone when you lock them up."

Archer threw a dark look at his friend. "She lied to us, Trip. She's a security risk."

"Yeah," Trip sighed. "Little bitty girls who tuck themselves into bed and read to their dollies grow up to be big, bad doctors." He grimaced as he drained his own glass. "Little boys who take apart their parents dining tables grow up to drink too much wine at dinner parties and let their mouth run away with them." He made a face in apology at the captain.

Jon curled his lips up in a smile. "I'll buy that. Let's get some sleep, huh? It's going to be a big day tomorrow."

Trip put down his glass and followed his friend out the door.

* * *

Malcolm found Chang in the gym lifting weights and moved closer to stand near his head. "You should let someone spot you," he gently scolded.

"Nobody else...up this late," Chang exhaled slowly in tandem with the rising bar he held.

Absently Malcolm watched Chang's arms move up and down. "Did you know Major Hayes very well?"

Chang hesitated. "As well as could be expected, I guess."

The lieutenant got lost in his memory of the brief but intense friendship that sprang up between him and the man he'd viewed as a rival. "He was a stickler for rules, wasn't he?"

Chang chuckled and nearly dropped the weight bar on his chest. "That's a fair estimate," he agreed. Calming his breath, he lifted the bar again.

"Did he follow _all_ the rules?" The second the question left his mouth Malcolm knew he'd pushed too hard.

"Do you have something special in mind?" Sergeant Chang was becoming defensive about maintaining the good name of his former C.O.

Reed considered asking point blank, but his cheeks were still burning these three days later from Phlox's mating questions. "Never mind," he muttered, helping Chang put the bar back on its resting place.

"Does this have anything to do with the incident involving Ensign Sato?" Daniel asked after swiveling his head around to make certain there was nobody nearby to over hear. He pulled two dumbbells off the stand and began heaving them up and down.

Malcolm froze. _Did everyone know about his late night with the girls?_ "You know about that?"

"Several people know," Chang admitted.

Malcolm shuddered. That would explain some of the curious looks he was receiving in the Mess Hall and in the turbo lift.

"I heard it was rather noisy," Chang went on.

Malcolm bristled. "As the senior officer of the MACO staff, I expect you to squash any rumor-mongering that you might come across, not encourage it!" Embarrassment made Malcolm step away from the other man and start an easy jog on the treadmill.

"It's not gossip if I heard it from the participants," Dan pointed out. "Are you're telling me you know?" He wondered how Malcolm could be so defensive about a little holiday kissing under the mistletoe, especially since it happened last Christmas. In the months that had followed both Hayes and Hoshi had mentioned it to him, with promises that it remain between them.

"Of course I know!" Malcolm snapped. "I was there!"

"You were there? I hadn't heard this part." Chang put down the dumbbells and grinned, inviting easy confidences in the gym.

Understanding suddenly dawned. "We're talking about two different things, aren't we?" Reed stopped running and clamped his mouth shut. It was difficult to run and breathe with his mouth closed.

"What are you talking about?"

"What are _you_ talking about?"

They stared at each other distrustfully. "Never mind," they both uttered at the same time.

Reed gave up pretending to work out. He picked up his gear and headed for the door. Before he could open it, he stopped and withdrew his hand from the button. Chang was already back at work with the dumbbells.

"Did Major Hayes make a regular practice out of seducing young ladies?" he asked, unable to help himself and fuming over the heat that stained his cheeks.

"No, he did not," Chang stated firmly. Perhaps Malcolm had feelings for Ensign Sato, Chang decided, and was concerned that he might be overstepping his bounds. He wanted to tell Reed it was all right to find a little happiness in life, especially considering their line of work, but the stoic lieutenant didn't invite confidences or personal conversation. He hoped his cryptic words would get the proper sentiment across.

Malcolm nodded and left. So the affair with Andie Brainerd was something special then. Unusual, he corrected his thoughts. The affair was unusual, not special. The thought didn't help him sleep any better.


	26. Chapter 26

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen.

* * *

The next day seemed to pass easily enough for the crew. Due to the power conservation, most of the crew had been given time off and encouraged to rest in their cabins. Many people were thrilled with this, planning card games and small parties with several other crew members.

A full crew wasn't necessary in the armory, and during the day Malcolm scheduled a series of training exercises for the physically ambitious members of the crew. There were competitions complete with prizes donated by other members of the crew. Ensign Mayweather won the admiration of several female crewmembers and a bottle of red wine by beating his opponents in hand to hand combat, and Corporal Parsons retained her reputation as the most deadly with a rifle. She took home a box of chocolates and promised to share them later with Hoshi.

Trip and Emory spent a great deal of time reconfiguring the transporter. Trip found the work slightly frustrating when Emory refused to allow Trip to complete the repairs. He'd spent enough time around Andie by now to realize when someone was acting shady. He agreed to reduce power throughout the ship, and sent a message to Archer about Emory's hesitation to allow Trip to look over the full schematics or replace the power converter.

Archer gave Danika a tour of the ship, pleased that she had taken the time to learn as many details about the ship as she could. He told her she knew Enterprise almost as well as any crewmembers currently serving and she blushed. Jon wished out loud for the opportunity to sign Danika up for service with Starfleet, thinking it would be nice to have a companion he could confide in fully. Danika put him off, telling him that her father couldn't bear to lose his daughter in his life the way he'd lost his son. They both agreed that their fathers' were particularly difficult and finished the day by reminiscing about their childhood with chocolate chip cookies and milk in the Mess Hall.

It wasn't until much later that the world went to hell.

* * *

With the ship running at low power levels, there weren't many tasks to be completed without running extensive diagnostics. In the armory, Lieutenant Reed had dismissed many of the regularly scheduled crew and remained behind to clean all the phase pistols and pulse rifles. He found the repetitious work to be soothing to his nerves. Ensign Burrows had volunteered to forgo his night off and help. Malcolm accepted the company willingly.

They were just finishing up their tasks when the lights flickered and a noise brought Malcolm to full alert. He tossed the rifle he'd been cleaning to the other man and pulled a phase pistol out of the cabinet behind him. They split up and walked through the stacks of torpedoes with their weapons held at the ready, looking for the source of the disturbance. Malcolm climbed the steep stairs, certain he'd heard the disturbance occur up there.

Burrows tried to will his palms to stop sweating as he returned from his brief turn around the room. There didn't seem to anybody there. He didn't see the tell-tale shimmer sally up behind him, as though playing peek-a-boo over his shoulder. When he spun around, it was gone. He lowered his rifle just a tad. Without warning, a shimmer appeared and seemed to swing at him. It looked like the heat ripple in the summertime, but before Burrows could do more than scream in pain, it had attacked him and disappeared.

Reed heard the noise and called for medical aid from Sickbay as he nimbly hurried down the steep stairs. There was no intruder to be found down there. The only thing he found was Ensign Burrows. Flipping the young man over, Reed couldn't help but cringe at the way his face had been distorted from its usual pleasant features. Reed didn't know what kind of energy could do what he'd just seen, but he did know that Ensign Burrows would never have to worry about his physical appearance ever again.

He was dead.

* * *

The ship was in chaos.

Lights flickered and Andie sat up in bed. A warning klaxon sounded through the ship and the cats scattered. A few minutes later her door opened. Sergeant Chang poked his head in.

"We've received reports of an unknown intruder," he told her. "Your door will remain unlocked in case of an emergency, but you will not leave. Is that understood?" His voice was low and firm.

"You're leaving me to my own devices?" she asked.

"I'm leaving you here on your own honor system," he reminded her. "If you go missing, I'll be the first one to hunt you down because it'll be my butt on the line." He waited until she nodded her understanding.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Don't know yet." He disappeared and the door slid shut but without the customary click that signified the lock had dropped into place.

Waiting with nothing to do was awful, but waiting around while the ship was under attack was far worse. It gave Andie too much time to think about the direction her life was taking her, and the trouble her bad attitude got her into. She could be helping; instead she was locked up. Her hand hovered over the button to release the door. She was just going to poke her head out, she thought. She hesitated. In spite of the growing reasons why he _shouldn't_ trust her, Daniel _did._ She wouldn't betray that faith he placed in her. Her hand dropped to her side. She turned to face the window, wishing there was another way to witness the happenings on the ship.

The uncertainty was excruciating.

* * *

Malcolm woke later than usual, compliments of the sedative that Phlox had administered late in the evening. He groaned and rolled over to stare listlessly at the ceiling. The captain had insisted that he take the day off, and with so many systems operating at reduced power, there wasn't a good enough reason to insist on working.

Commander Tucker had stopped by his quarters early this morning to check on Malcolm's state of mind but only stayed for a short time. He explained that the anomaly that killed Burrows was not something that Malcolm could have expected and told the armory officer not to blame himself, knowing that the odds of that happening were slim. He left to continue preparing the transporter for Dr. Erickson's teleportation test this afternoon.

For several long minutes Malcolm continued to stare at the ceiling of his bunk, trying to clear the fuzziness left behind from the sedative from his mind. Already he hated his day. He wondered if the new doctor felt this claustrophobic remaining in her cabin for the last week. Thinking about the woman made his insides churn, especially since it seemed that she was not the sole cause of his inability to protect his crew. Taking care of the people around him seemed to be in higher priority these days, but he didn't want to look too closely at the reasons why. Malcolm threw a shoe against the wall in a growing fit of temper. Sighing in frustration, he sat at his desk. He may be experiencing a small leave of absence today, but that was just a good opportunity to catch up on paperwork.

Unfortunately, most of the paperwork that needed to be done had to do with the demise of the young crewman. Giving up in frustration, Malcolm changed into sweats and went to the gym to release his frustrations on an unsuspecting punching bag.

* * *

The bell chimed that evening and the door opened. Andie looked up from her knitting and greeted the MACO warmly. "Daniel, what can I do for you?"

A blood-stained towel was flung on her bed near her knee. "Did you actually tear off someone's head during practice?" she teased.

"Reed hit the bag so hard that he sustained injuries to his hands." Chang was direct and upfront; it was one of the things she liked most about him.

"Take him to Sickbay," she replied curtly, tossing the offensive towel back at him.

"He refused to heed that suggestion from me."

"I'm under lock and key. I can't help you," she told him firmly.

Daniel stared at her for a long moment. "You won't help him?"

"No."

"Because you're holding a grudge?"

She squirmed slightly under his straightforward gaze. "Yes, among other reasons."

"You think he's angry, suspicious, and paranoid and obsessed with pinning all manner of sins to your shoulders?"

"Yes," she tilted her chin defiantly at him.

Chang paused. "That's not the man I came to know in the Expanse."

Andie eyed him stubbornly and shrugged as if she didn't care.

"The man I know was shrewd, cautious and well-prepared. He cared about the people under his command and every single member of the crew."

"War changes people," she told him, fighting the urge to offer to help.

"I don't want Reed to be another casualty of war!" Daniel's outburst surprised both of them. He was always so quiet and calm. Daniel had also been very kind to her in spite of everything else that went on. He allowed Henry Bowman to visit her everyday even though Malcolm didn't want her to have visitors. He brought her information on the ship, even though she was supposed to be cut off.

"You expect me to accomplish this without setting off an alarm to the captain?" she asked.

"I'd help you," he told her, the relief at her weakening resolve softening the sharp angles of his face.

She eyed him. "If word got out that you helped me break out of my cage, evade guards and force my way into Reed's cabin, you'd be court-martialed."

"So be it."

His determination in the face of such dire conclusions moved her. She may not like Reed but plenty of people did. She'd rather like to see the shy, funny man that the others seemed to know.

"I'll need some things from Sickbay," she told him, standing up and preparing to make a list.

* * *

There was a chime at Reed's door. He wasn't nearly as tired as he should've been after all that exercise, but he didn't really feel like entertaining company. The doorbell chimed again. When he still didn't answer it, whoever was out there leaned on it several times in a quick staccato rhythm. They didn't appear to be going away.

Heaving a sigh, he rose and carefully hit the button to open the door.

"You should be in Sickbay," that damned woman informed him cheerfully.

Reed glared at the MACO guard behind her. "You aren't supposed to be here."

"I won't tell if you won't!" she chirped again.

He continued to glare at her, hoping she'd just state her business and go away.

"May I come in?" she asked in a more subdued tone. She could see the mess he'd made of his hands and the shadows that lingered under his eyes.

"I was just going to bed," he informed her curtly. "Good night."

The door closed in her surprised face.

She rang the chime again, insistently. The door slid open.

"You need medical attention," she informed him without any trace of the saccharine goodwill she'd exhibited earlier. "Let me in."

"No." The door slid shut.

Her eyes narrowed. "He's kidding, right?" she asked the question of the man behind her. She turned to leave. Daniel glared at her. Andie fumed silently and returned to the door to ring the bell again.

When Malcolm refused to answer, she leaned on the intercom. "I was recently given some reading material that you'd find interesting. Crewmen are instructed to report any serious injury to the chief medical officer or the captain, and in the event that the injured crewman does not tend his own ailments, the rest of the crew has a responsibility to report them. If you don't let me in, I'll be forced to send for Archer and I understand that he's already in a foul mood today."

The door slid open again. She stopped and fixed the occupant with a chilly grin and a steely glare. "I am determined to enter and I haven't even begun setting my mind to it yet," she threatened. "I will not be denied, so get out of my way."

"I'll have you thrown in the Brig," he told her coldly. He stepped back and let the door close. He was taking perverse pleasure in slamming the door repeatedly on her perpetually cheery face.

A thump sounded as her foot hit the door. She kept kicking, growing more and more persistent as the singing began. She chose a loud Klingon opera and the noise carried through the corridor. Malcolm's desk was near the door and he noticed a flash on the screen as someone from this section of living quarters called down to the armory for security. He smirked. She'd be in trouble now.

He let her continue unabated outside until he heard the soothing no-nonsense tones of Lieutenant Truax. His department would curtail Andie's activities.

The kicking stopped but the flat of her hand continued to pat at the door and her voice could be heard, not just inside his cabin but all the way down the hall, as she replied loudly to Truax's inquiry with her hand on his intercom.

"He said he'd die if Trip didn't return his affections! You don't think he'd injure himself?" The pounding began on the door. "Come out, Lieutenant! We'll find you some great guy to appreciate you! Don't do anything rash!"

The door flew open. "Get in here!" he gritted through clenched teeth, the ache in his hands only making him angrier since he knew she was right about needing treatment.

He glanced at Truax. "You're dismissed," he told his second in command. "She's a raving loon."

Truax saluted and turned away, but not before he heard her mutter, "She's not the only one," under her breath. Reed didn't see her exchange significant glances with Chang.

He glared at Andie as she moved forward. She smiled coolly. "If you permit me to administer medical attention, I won't lecture you on your hobbies or report you to the captain for damaging Starfleet property."

"I didn't damage the punching bag," he fumed.

"I wasn't talking about the bag," she informed him, already scanning him with her medical tri-corder. "I was talking about you. As a valued officer in Starfleet you are obligated not to take on risks in your personal life that would prevent you from fulfilling your duties to Starfleet." She smiled at him. "Would you like to know that chapter and verse? Someone was kind enough to leave me with security regs recently."

He hated her passionately, at the same time he was flattered that she had taken his advice to read them.

She studied her readouts as he stood before her in a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. "You were in the gym?" she inquired.

"Hitting the bag," he answered with an obvious gesture at his bloody knuckles.

"You've overtaxed your shoulder, and damaged your hands. I'll treat it, but before I do you'll want to get ready to settle in for the night."

"I'm fine," he gritted.

"No, you're sweaty and bloody," she corrected him. "I'll wait here while you shower. If you need help, I can assist you, or I can ask Sergeant Chang to assist you." She eyed the chopped meat that had been his hands dubiously.

"I'll manage," he sighed. The idea of a shower appealed to him. By himself, he'd been unable to remove his clothing and was resigned to spending the night in his sweaty, damp fleece. He eyed her suspiciously. "This isn't some plot to make me a part of your professional conquests, is it?"

Andie tilted her head to one side and tried to read his mind. "You have some weird ideas about me."

"You seem to have a personal relationship with everyone you work with," he told her, stomping over to his cupboard and trying to open the door.

She stepped up and took care of the handle, pulling out the loose pants he indicated with his swollen finger. "You're an ass," she told him mildly. Leaving him, she moved into the bathroom and turned on the water to a fine steam, moving his blue towel closer to the shower for easy access and even squeezing liquid soap on the sponge in the stall.

Turning to leave, she found him squirming behind her, trying to remove his garments with fingers that would barely bend. Reaching out, she stepped forward and he automatically stepped back.

"You're going to need help," she pointed out. Gently she reached for the hem of his tee shirt and slipped it carefully over his aching shoulder and tossed it in the corner. Kneeling, she removed his shoes and socks, while Malcolm seethed with embarrassment. When she reached for his waistband, he stepped away from her again.

"You can remove your own pants," she told him dryly, "but I'm sure the drawstring will give you problems." With great effort he stood still while she flipped the waistband inside out, the better to pull the tidy bow undone without viewing the contents of his pants.

"Holler if you need anything," she told him and left.

"Doctor," he started. She paused. "Thank you," he forced the words out, not feeling thankful at all.

"I'm not doing this for you," she told him, leaving him alone in the room.

* * *

He returned a short time later, smelling of soap, wearing pajama pants and nothing else. Andie sat cross-legged on his bed and gestured for him to take the desk chair. The dim lights on his bunk lit her actions. She didn't speak as she set to work, applying a hypo spray to his neck for the pain, using medication to speed recovery of the wounds on his hands.

While he was bathing, she'd turned on some music. It was a soothing rhythm of drums in a tribal beat, much like her concise actions. The pain in his hands began to recede, removing the distraction from his own misery that had driven him to the gym in the first place.

"He was a good man," he forced the words out trying to apply a distance that he didn't feel to the tragedy that had occurred under his very nose.

Andie's gaze flickered to his face, but she didn't cease her work.

"He was new." Reed was unaware that the heavy dose of painkiller Andie used was to blame for his loose lips. His head was swimming rather pleasantly and he felt buffered from the reality around him. "He came on after the Expanse. You know we lost a third of our crew there?"

"He let me cut the coffee queue," Andie muttered, applying a softly scented cream and wrapping the left hand carefully with clean bandages. His knuckles were bloody and swollen but not seriously injured.

"You'd give a serial killer a pass if he let you jump the coffee line," Malcolm scoffed.

Andie acknowledged this with a faint smile and a wry tilt of her head. She started work on his other hand. The wounds were more extensive. One knuckle appeared to be broken, but she couldn't repair it in here. Tomorrow he might be more willing to see reason and go to Sickbay.

"He was just a boy," Malcolm went on. "I should have sent him to higher ground. He would have been safe there, and I..."

"You think you should have died?" she asked, intent on her work. "This is the second time you've indicated an expectation of death to me recently. Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Everybody seems to die around me," he told her morosely. "Hayes died on my watch." He waited for her reaction.

"I thought his name was Burrows."

"No, Major Hayes," Reed corrected her. He watched for her reaction to her paramour.

She shook her head. "I don't know who that is."

"Major Jared Matthew Hayes, the leader of the MACO unit!" Malcolm' voice rose in the confines of the small room. "How can you forget the name of your lover?" He winced as she injected a small amount of calcium paste into his damaged hand.

She looked puzzled. "I've never slept with a man named Hayes...ooh!" Understanding dawned. "The MACO leader? _That_ guy!"

"See, you remember him now! His lips were strong and smooth!" his voice was triumphant, earning him another amused glance from his doctor.

"I don't want to know how you know that," she told him, smoothing cream over his right hand and wrapping bandages around it. "I never slept with Major Hayes."

"But you knew him?" His voice contained a small measure of hope that his friend would not be forgotten tinged with the pain of the loss he still felt, in no small part because he spent so much time keeping Hayes at a distance when he first came on board, afraid he'd lose his job. It was similar to the way he kept Andie at a distance, although he couldn't think of any reason why he would be so antagonistic without provocation. Maybe he just didn't want to think of the reasons. He forced his mind to pay attention to her words.

"I knew him. The lunar survival training for the MACO unit suffered a catastrophic contagion," she ran a scanner over his hands again, as she pulled out two fingerless gloves and carefully slid them onto his damaged hands to keep them immobile as he slept. "Two of the three doctors fell ill, and there is a shortage of physicians who are also qualified to teach in space. I filled in for the last two weeks. I spent most of my time in the medical lab, treating fractures and asphyxiation."

She rose and stood behind him as she began to treat the injury to his shoulder. "I did attend the farewell party though. Twenty-four of the best and brightest were celebrating their acceptance to _Enterprise_, and I found him standing at attention in a corner. We went outside and found an empty table on the back terrace at HQ and opened a bottle of scotch. We talked about life in space and I offered him advice on what to expect out there, and pretty soon the sun came up."

Sadness tinged her voice. "I gave him another bottle of scotch and told him that when he returned we'd meet at that same table and toast to his success. It was the last time I saw him."

Malcolm hung his head. "I'm the senior tactical officer. It should have been my responsibility to face that danger. I should never have allowed him to go."

Andie wasn't sure if he meant the danger to Hayes, or the more recent danger to Burrows. It may have been a lament of both. "Where would _Enterprise_ be without her tactical officer?"

"Archer is a fine captain," Malcolm asserted. "He's smarter than he looks," he parodied the words he'd heard her speak, "He's capable of finding another officer, one in whom he can put his full faith!"

"She needs her security officer now," Andie assured him softly.

"I'm not so sure what she needs. People die on my watch. I'm like the harbinger of doom."

"Everyone who signs up knows the dangers involved." Applying a gel to his shoulder, she rubbed it into his skin, the friction triggering a heat that seeped into the aching joint. She also pressed another hypo into his neck.

"He couldn't have known the danger in associating with me," Reed tipped his head forward into his aching hands, unable to stop the rush of emotion that wet his eyes. "I'm the Angel of Death!"

Slipping her arms around his neck, Andie cradled his head during the short storm of tears. When it was over, his body fell forward and she knew that the sleeping agent was finally taking effect. Rolling him back against the chair, she steadied him as he blinked blankly. She pushed back the blankets on his bed and he went willingly, like a small child. Andie tucked him in, arranging his hands on top of the covers.

Reaching over, she flicked the switch to shut off the lights around his bed. His hand reached up and grabbed her arm even as his eyes struggled to stay open. "They don't know to fear me," he whispered. "I am the Grim Reaper." His eyes closed as he succumbed to sleep.

Andie watched the lines on his face soften. Touching his cheek softly, she whispered, "You are not the Grim Reaper." He couldn't possibly have heard but he moaned softly in protest.

"You keep the enemies from the gate. You are a protector of men," she went on. His breathing steadied. She rose and picked up her bag, tossing in the medicines she'd used, and headed for the door.

"You've got it backward," she sighed sadly. "I am the Angel of Death."

Exiting quietly, she allowed Sergeant Chang to return her to her room.


	27. Chapter 27

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

The next day was even more miserable than the first. Emory showed no signs of acknowledging his part in the crewman's death, and Archer discovered he was being lied to. Again. He found he didn't like the sensation. At least when his doctor lied to him he didn't have to write obituaries.

"_Let's make it worthwhile."_ The words he'd used to comfort Emory rang in Jon's head. He was at loose ends for another three hours while they waited for Quinn's life sign to stabilize enough to allow for transport back to the corporeal world. "_You didn't deserve this, Jonathan," Emory told him._

Archer gritted his teeth. He didn't deserve any of this. He didn't deserve to be lied to on his own ship. There were answers he needed and he could only think of one person that could give them to him.

* * *

Andie's door chimed. She was hoping it was Malcolm showing up for another treatment, and was surprised when Archer bullied his way through her door.

"You look like shit," she told him matter of factly. "Want a drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she pulled another glass out of her cupboard and poured a healthy dose of amber liquid into it and offered it to the tense man. He took it roughly. She poured her own drink and settled back onto the bunk. Josephine had been curled up on the pillow, but happily shifted to her mistress's lap without missing a beat.

Archer took the desk chair and sat heavily. "You didn't sell us out to the Klingons, did you?" he asked. She risked her life to save his crew, not condemn them. He'd always known that, hadn't he? The anger drained away and weariness set in.

"I did not lead you into a trap," she answered firmly.

He sipped his scotch. "This is good," he commented with surprise.

"It's twelve years' old," she told him. "I don't like you or I would have offered the eighteen."

Archer glared darkly at her twinkling eyes. He couldn't sit still; he got up and walked restlessly around the room. "Dr. Erickson told me you were part of the Donner site."

"I don't think Harry Donovan would appreciate that moniker," she told him, unconsciously parroting Danika's words at dinner that first night.

Jon paced through the room like a caged tiger. "Why does Emory think you were a part of the Donner site?" he asked, tossing the question into the room with the same amount of force with which he tossed the contents of the glass in his hand.

"Emory is mistaken," Andie informed him softly. ""Starfleet has very strict protocols about allowing children on terra forming projects," she repeated with forced calm. "Children cannot be expected to understand the dangers inherent in such a task, or remember the security protocols, or fend for themselves in the event of an emergency." She sipped her drink. "Children are not allowed on terra forming colonies." If he had turned around, he would have noted how still she'd become.

"He is not mistaken! He believes that you were part of that colony!" Jon paced the room, turned and paced again, his head swimming and his chest tight with anger. He never even noticed that she'd pulled the glass from his numb fingers and refilled it, sliding it into a palm cupped with repressed rage as he made another turn. He wasn't even sure he was angry with this woman, but he had nowhere else to go to release his displeasure. Doctors were known to keep secrets.

"My father was part of that mission," she replied. "Everything I know about Harry Donovan's colonial site is what I've learned from reading mission reports." She sipped from her own glass and stood, gently pushing aside the creature tucked into her lap. "Would you care to hear about what I've read?" She refilled her own glass and stood next to the window, a favorite posture of Archer's.

Jon spun on his heel and felt the room sway. He covered his dizziness by pulling out her desk chair and making himself comfortable again.

"Everything was fine at first," she spoke in a low voice. Had there been any other noise on the ship, Jon wasn't sure if he could have heard her. "The bio-domes were dropped into place to serve as mission control while the scientists on that first site conducted their experiments to determine the best location for the future city plans. Things went wrong from the beginning, but then, things are always a little tricky at first." She chewed on her lip. "The official verdict was sub-standard materials, but anyone who knew Harry Donovan would know that he was so proud to be in charge of the project, he would never have done anything to jeopardize it."

"Communications were wonky, lights flickered on and off but maintenance couldn't find the source of the disturbance and supplies that were supposed to last for months ran short."

"That's not unusual," Jon remarked, remembering the initial difficulties his crew had with similar mistakes in their first year.

"Nope, that's not unusual," she agreed. "Then other things happened. A water tank sprung a leak. All the water was gone before anyone noticed; it just evaporated away."

"Again," he reminded her, "that's not unusual. All special projects suffer some setbacks." Archer tried to reason with her. He couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine at her tense voice, like she was reliving an awful memory. It hit him like a lightning bolt. She had been there, no matter what Starfleet protocols forbid. While listening to the rest of her story, he tried to reason out how old she'd been when this occurred.

"The stakes got higher. A man cooking in the galley set himself on fire. The grav-plating went on- and off-line by itself. Doors would swish open and closed when nobody was around to touch the buttons." She paused and sipped her drink.

"Somebody may have been tampering with the mechanisms," Archer argued. He felt the need to be reasonable in the face of what might have been simple childhood fears and misunderstandings. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be a child and live under these stressful situations.

"It was like being hunted," she remarked, lost in her perusal of the starless sky outside. "One scientist locked herself in a room and refused to come out until a transport came to pick her up. The door sealed shut and the atmosphere regenerators started spewing carbon monoxide into the room. She suffocated behind clear glass walls because the door wouldn't open. As soon as she turned blue and swallowed her tongue, the doors slid open as though they were freshly oiled."

Andie swallowed. "There was a sudden rush to get out of there. People started making their way to the airlock. One man was slower than the others and he was crushed when the door slammed shut. He was only halfway through it."

Andie looked at Archer, the lights that illuminated the outer hull of the ship causing shadows on her face in the semi-dark room. "The people ran and doors slammed behind them. Smoke filled rooms barely vacated. Sirens blared. The scientists were driven to the airlock door in the cargo bay and the airlock began to depressurize. Of the twenty-two scientists, six sought refuge at my father's urging in the empty water tank, and eight chose to don EV suits and try walking the distance to the nearest established colony."

"Every EV suit failed. There is a margin of error, but a catastrophic failure of every single EV suit is a little hard to grasp. There was a hole in one, a bad seal in another, a ruptured oxygen tube in a third." She swallowed hard and went on.

"The six people in the water tank remained there for ten days, subsisting on the stagnant water at the bottom. A freighter experiencing mechanical difficulties set down on the site hoping to receive aid, and would up rescuing them from the water tank. He offered them a ride back to Earth." One eyebrow raised in a parody of a smirk. "The survivors did not, as popular legend allows, eat each other. Once the ship cleared Martian atmosphere, all the problems went away."

"Why wouldn't that show up on your record?" he wondered, catching her eye. "Assuming you had been there, of course." It didn't hurt to play along.

"I would have been six years old. It would have violated every regulation Starfleet holds dear about their terra-forming projects and anyone who had been involved would be once again subjected to review while the current administration reviews the whole mess again. Most of the participants are dead and can't defend themselves."

"Maybe they should be subject to discipline," Jon observed bitterly.

"Emory lied to Starfleet to procure a ship and preyed on the emotional baggage of the captain to continue his work. He deserves some discipline, but he's not in the brig. You're actually rewarding him for his bad behavior!" Her voice rose sharply.

"There's no other choice!"

"There's always another choice!"

That sentiment echoed what he'd heard her say to Gardiner. "If there is a chance to save Quinn, it must be done now. There's no time to wait." Jon was tired of trying to justify his actions to his crew.

"After fifteen years in a transporter holding pattern, the subject should have suffered sufficient cellular degradation. His odds of survival aren't good." Now she was trying to be rational.

"Emory believes he can be saved," Jon protested weakly. He clung to the faith in his father figure the way a child clings to his teddy bear in the dark.

"Emory is deluding himself because what he wants to believe is more palatable to him that what is actually true! He'd let everyone on board die to bring back his son! Is that something Quinn would want? And what about Danika? She'll face the consequences of being his accessory! Did her father give a rat's ass about his daughter's happiness at all in the last ten years?"

"Fifteen," Jon corrected automatically.

She couldn't hide the surprise at her slip although she tried with a wave of her hand. "Whatever!" It was her father she hadn't seen in ten years. She wondered if he would try this hard to save her if she were trapped in the buffer.

"I guess I'm not the only person putting my personal feelings to the front," Archer deduced. "You're trying to punish your own father."

"My father did what he thought was right," Andie remained stubborn, "even if he was wrong!"

Archer smirked at her. They weren't so different after all. He stood and set down his glass. "I have a favor to ask." Standing next to her they both took in the blank sky. "Since we're heading back to Earth, Ensign Burrows will be returned to his family for a proper burial, according to his mother's wishes. He'll need to be prepared for the journey." His voice broke on the last word.

"Phlox is a fine physician," Andie pointed out, feeling her bitterness about their current project melting away. She just felt numb.

"Mrs. Burrows would prefer that her son's remains be placed in the hands of a human doctor."

The ugliness of that phrase seeped into the room.

"What a stupid woman!" Andie uttered softly.

"You'll do it?" Archer didn't have the luxury of agreeing with her out loud, but he agreed wholeheartedly in spirit.

"I would be honored," she agreed slowly. "But perhaps tomorrow?" She held up her empty glass. "I hadn't prepared to do medical stuff today."

"Sure," he agreed. He started toward the door. "I may have been wrong about you." It was his only attempt at an apology.

"You may have been right," she studied him quietly.

"Maybe we famous kids have to stick together. Nobody else would understand our dads or the things we do for them anyway." He tried to smile but it hurt his cheeks.

"You may be famous," she told him dryly. "I'm infamous. I'm working my way through to notorious."

"Well, you're halfway there!" With that last remark, he left.

* * *

Well, they managed to bring Quinn back, but not in the way that Emory believed. 

Now that it was all over, Archer lay in his bed turning over the events of the last few days in his mind.

Space exploration hadn't been anything like what he had expected. Aliens weren't always happy to meet humans. War still raged over so many planets. Famine and disease were still occurring every day, not on Earth, but in other places. The human race had just returned from a year long mission to seek out and destroy an enemy that had started without a face. Jon had killed men on that trip too. He had ordered a lunar station destroyed, killing three innocent persons, in order to keep the location of his ship a secret. Degra, a good man following the wrong leader, had been executed on the whim of a zealot.

This last memory made Archer flinch. A steady pain burned in his chest. He'd been so young when he started space travel. Now it seemed all he could do was pile up the number of wrongdoings and pray the price didn't rise too much higher.

Emory was trying to rescue his son. Archer was trying to rescue his soul. If he could do enough good deeds, would it erase the bad deeds from his memory? Shrugging off his blankets, Archer pulled on a pair of sweat pants and headed down the hall. There was one deed he could try to undo.

* * *

Trip wasn't in his quarters. Archer found him, after finally asking the computer, working in the transporter alcove, setting everything to rights. Packing up cases of materials, Trip worked silently and alone in the wee hours of the morning.

"You could let this wait until morning," he said, standing at his friend's shoulder.

"Might as well get it all ready to go," Trip answered, not bothering to look up at the captain. "I doubt they'll have time later." His hands continued to busy themselves with other things as he knelt on the floor.

Archer leaned against the wall. "You're a good man, Trip." It was the only thing he knew for certain at the moment.

For a moment, those hands stopped working. "Thanks," he grunted, and continued packing, winding a cable around one arm before dropping it in a big crate.

"You've been there for me a million times, and I..." Jon's voice trailed off.

Trip looked up.

"I don't want to lose you and think there are things I could've or should've said," Archer finished stiffly.

Blue eyes stared into green eyes for a long, loaded moment. "What are you talking about?" A familiar quick grin came out of hiding and blinded Jon. "Have you been drinking?"

Relaxing, Jon crossed his arms over his chest. "Just one, but I was talking to Andie." His smile, much rarer these days, slipped out.

"So you're drunk by proxy?" Trip chuckled. "I don't know where she keeps it, but she always seems to have a flask of somethin' lyin' around." He stopped suddenly and studied the ground by his shoe.

"I don't want to be chasing ghosts for you either," Trip admitted, painfully.

Archer sort of kicked at Trip's knee with his toe. Trip thrust an elbow to poke Archer in the leg. They giggled like naughty children.

"Let's leave this for the morning crew," Archer decided. "I think I've got a bottle or two of beer in my room somewhere."

A shadow passed over Trip's face. "Yeah," he agreed. "That might hit the spot." He joined Archer as they retreated to the captain's quarters. "Think Malcolm might like to join us?"

Checking the ship's chronometer as they passed one in the hall, Archer shrugged. "He's probably already asleep."

* * *

Malcolm was wide awake. He tossed aside the padd he'd been trying to read. He was grateful to have Lieutenant Truax around, but she was so efficient that his presence seemed to be more trouble than it was worth in the armory. Someone had informed her about his condition, because she hovered at his side all day, refusing to let him do more than supervise the repairs. The coddling frustrated him because he could use a long day of hard work to keep his personal demons at bay.

As though reminded of demons, his eyes popped open. He just couldn't tolerate the waiting around anymore. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt, Reed made his way to Sickbay. He waited until Phlox wasn't looking and slipped into the small room at the rear of the lab. This room had been designed to house patients who required an extended stay. It adjusted easily into a morgue when the need called for it. This room hadn't even been present when Enterprise first left Earth. It had been added just before the trip into the Expanse.

He shivered. This room was kept chilly to maintain the bodies. Pulling open a drawer on the side wall, he found Burrows resting there, his mangled face visible from this side. Malcolm sat on a silver case and studied the damage. He sat there so long, his eyes grew heavy and his head fell forward.

In the early morning, the door slid open. Dressed in scrubs for the first time in several days was a treasure, and she didn't realize how much she enjoyed her work. The sight that met her gaze as she stepped into the room reminded her that much of her work was often unhappy. She withdrew the tools she needed from a drawer and pulled an exam table close to the open drawer.

The quiet noise woke Malcolm with a start.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she stated softly.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded wearily. It was the first time he'd seen her since her visit to his quarters and his subsequent breakdown, so he was suitably reserved. He waited for her to taunt him for his weakness, but she made no mention of it and he played along with relief.

"The captain asked me to see to Burrows," she told him. She felt sorry for the man who clung so tightly to the life of this crewman. She reached for the sheet that covered the body, intending to use it to transfer the corpse to the exam table. Malcolm rose and lent a hand, grinding his teeth at the pain the action caused him.

"You should let Phlox look at those," she nodded to his hands. "Much of this will be unpleasant. You may wish to leave now."

"Do I have to?" he asked plaintively.

"You can stay," she agreed. She gestured to a drawer and he pulled out two smocks and rubber gloves, the necessary protective garb for the invasive procedures about to occur. He turned to find her bent over the body and whispering something in Burrows' ear. Wordlessly she took the offered garment and hit a button on the wall, filling the room with classical music.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "This music doesn't seem like you," he noted.

"I like different kinds of music, and you hardly know me," she retorted, setting to work. She pulled up her own stool and began to transform the twisted visage of the unfortunate young man into something that might be seen by his parents. Phlox had already determined the cause of death, so there was no reason for a full autopsy.

The smell of the lasers Andie used made Malcolm queasy. He was glad he hadn't had breakfast this morning, and suddenly found he couldn't remember the last time he had gone to the Mess Hall. He studied his feet and swallowed hard, hoping to head off the gurgling in his stomach before she noticed. A small paper wrapped object landed in his lap.

"Gum," she told him without looking up. "The mint aroma deters...other aromas." She was chewing on a wad absently. "So how come you're sitting shiva?"

"He's so young," Reed observed.

"He was old enough to choose his own life," she commented.

"Nobody knows what they want when they're that young," Reed objected. "I was going to be a history teacher." He couldn't believe he'd just let that information fly out of his mouth. Nobody knew that, especially not his family.

That remark got a reaction. "Professor Reed," Andie mused, picturing an old man with leather patches on his jackets. "You'd have been quite a hit among the co-eds," she teased.

Suddenly defensive, Reed sat up straight. "What would you have been, if you didn't become a doctor?"

"I don't know," she answered quietly. "I think I was destined to be a doctor." The line of questioning was making her squirm so she moved the conversation along. "He was old enough to die fighting for what he believed in. Why are you taking it so personally?"

"You said you barely knew him!" Malcolm challenged. "How can you be so sure what he believed in?"

"Because he died at his post," she answered. "On a ship where nearly everyone was taking advantage of the time off to fool around, Burrows volunteered to work! Nobody shows that kind of dedication to a life they aren't sure about!"

Malcolm sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of," he whispered.

For once, Andie didn't open her big mouth.

"I knew a girl who was sure about everything. She knew she wanted to teach elementary school and have three children and see the pyramids at Giza." He swallowed hard and was glad he had opted not to chew the gum. "She died before she did any of that. She died because I wasn't prepared."

"Are you going to spend the rest of your life kicking yourself for that?" Andie asked. "Bad things happen to people, and sometimes you just can't stop it from happening."

"I don't want to lose anyone else," Malcolm stated quietly.

"What makes you think you can stop if from happening?"

There was a long silence.

"Her brother just joined Starfleet."

Andie worked in silence. "You think you can save him by removing his right to choose his own future?" she finally asked.

"It's what she would have wanted," Reed said stubbornly.

"She sounds like a girl who had definite ideas about her future. I don't think she would like you taking away her brother's right to choose. We can only walk the path that we choose for ourselves. Don't take that away from that boy." She put down her tools and looked steadily at the miserable man in front of her. "Let him go, Reed."

"I should go," he stood. "You have work to do."

"Have Phlox see to your hands on the way out," she told him curtly.

"My hands are fine!" he insisted.

"I've coddled you long enough," she told him. "If you don't report to Phlox, I'll have you removed from active duty pending a full evaluation." She smiled coolly. "As per the regs," she added snidely.

"You can't report me to Phlox. By keeping my injury secret, you've broken a regulation. If you report me to Phlox you will uncover your own complicity," he pointed out.

She eyed him sardonically. "I'm currently under house arrest for refusing to answer questions regarding espionage posed to me by the captain. Do I give the appearance of being someone who gives a rat's ass about complicity?" Her eyes narrowed. "You, on the other hand, do value your reputation here."

"I'm not crazy!" he hissed. "You're the one who's dangerous!"

"At the moment, Lieutenant, so are you," she retorted. "Will you submit to my medical advice or should I go pay a visit to Phlox?"

"Playing hardball are we?" he taunted.

Her mouth tensed. "You don't know me very well if you think this qualifies as hardball," she told him coolly.

They glared at each other.

"Fine!" he snapped. He had to believe that she wasn't bluffing. She would probably enjoy turning him in for self-inflicted injuries. He found he had to ask himself why he was punishing himself. It wasn't a question he really wanted an answer to.

He left her to her grim work and went to find Phlox.

She turned to Burrows' body and sighed. "Was he such a pest when you were alive, too?" She went back to work without an answer.


	28. Chapter 28

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen.

* * *

After her grim morning Trip found her in the greenhouse later. It was the first time since her confinement that she'd come in here and she wasn't as busy as she should have been. Actually she was just sitting on a stool and staring into space.

"Am I interrupting?"

Silently she shook her head and he came nearer. A fresh cup of coffee appeared at her elbow.

"I thought you could use this," Trip stated awkwardly. He pulled up a stool and sat next to her. "I hear you are our new mortician."

"Yup, that's me. Bring out your dead!" she mimicked the Monty Python movie.

"That's got to be a tough job," he commented. A funereal pall hung over the room

"Sometimes the dead are more personable than the living," she joked feebly.

Silence reigned.

"You're not a spy for the Klingon Empire, are you?" he asked.

"Nope."

It was quiet again.

"You probably know a lot of things because of your dad," Trip guessed.

"Yup."

"You probably think I'm an idiot," he guessed.

"Nope."

A grin stretched out. "You're probably hoping I'll take off my pants in an effort to cheer you up," he teased.

An answering smile reached out. "Yup." She glanced over with mock hopefulness.

"Nope!" he assured her solidly.

"Damnit!" she chuckled. "Better luck next time!"

There was a long silence.

"You think Archer's going to send me back to Earth?" she wondered out loud.

"I don't know. I hope not. You're good for my ego." They both chuckled.

They sat side by side for a while, just watching things grow.

"We all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're all right." His hand reached out from his lap and gently held hers companionably. She leaned her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a while.

* * *

Archer had called a meeting in the Conference Room. Reed and Phlox sat on one side of the table, and Trip and T'Pol sat on the other. Archer paced a bit restlessly at the head of the table. The door swished open and Andie was followed into the room by Sergeant Chang who saluted. Andie just sipped from her coffee mug as she sat at the far end.

"It's not customary to bring beverages into the conference room," Archer frowned.

"I'll remember that," she acknowledged with a hint of naughtiness in her eye as she continued to sip.

He sighed and began to speak. "I've contacted Starfleet Command, and there will be a hearing on Earth to determine the fate of the Erickson's as soon as they return. Admiral Gardiner would like everyone involved to send video depositions detailing as many interactions with Emory and Danika as you can remember. Those depositions will be used at the hearing in lieu of testimony."

Everyone sighed and grumbled, except T'Pol who made a careful note in her daily schedule.

"The Erickson's will board a transport for Earth. We'll be docking with the _Sarajevo_ shortly, fresh from her upgrades at the Coridan shipyards."

Trip's head jerked upright. "What kind of upgrades?"

Archer restrained a smirk. "Their new engine is registered as Warp Six-Five."

Trip moaned. "Which means a good engineer could maybe get it to Warp Seven or more." He was almost salivating as he mentally calculated whether or not it would be in poor taste to get a look at the engine before they parted ways.

"The captain of the _Sarajevo_ is concerned about the cargo." There was a nervous jerk as the listeners realized the cargo used to be living people. "He'd like a physician to accompany the bodies back to Earth, in the unlikely event that they contaminate his ship."

Archer looked straight at Andie. "Admiral Gardiner believes that you would be the best doctor for the job. Since you're still technically under house arrest, you'll take a security detail with you."

"I'd like to volunteer, sir," Chang stepped forward from his position at the back of the room.

Archer looked to Reed for confirmation.

Malcolm nodded. "If there's anyone she might listen to, it would be Chang. He's acceptable to me." Chang tilted his head in acknowledgment.

Archer met Andie's gaze. "You'll have to work quickly. You'll only have two days before returning, and there will be depositions to give and hearings to attend."

"Two days?" she asked. _If she only had two days, then he was going to let her return!_ "Whoo hoo! I love a good field trip!" Her sunny grin broke around the room.

Sighing in exasperation, Archer tried to instill some sobriety in her. "You be sure and tell the family that we extend our deepest regrets on their loss."

"Yup! Will do!" she chirped. She continued to fidget in the back of the room while the others reported on the repair schedule of each department. They were dismissed shortly thereafter.

* * *

"Andie?" Archer held her back when everyone else left. He also sent Chang outside. "I know how strongly you feel about the actions of Dr. Erickson, but I would consider it a personal favor if you would speak on Danika's behalf."

"Are you trying to influence my vote, Captain?"

"I'm trying to help my friend," he told her sternly. "She was only trying to help her father and I'd hate to see her suffer for her loyalties to family."

"And here you are, telling me all this time that adherence to the rules is what matters," she scoffed lightly.

"Wouldn't you do anything for your father?" he asked.

"I wouldn't kill someone for him," she tossed back.

Archer sighed and dropped his head. "Do whatever you think is right, then. That's what I would do." He stared at her very hard before leaving the room.

* * *

"May I come in?"

Chang stepped back and let Reed into the room. These quarters were smaller than the senior officers and although there was only one bunk in this room, the occupant shared a bathroom with the quarters next door. Reed knew there were quarters on C Deck that only housed two bunks and two desks and the lower ranks shared a bathroom down the hall. He thought Chang was lucky to have this privacy.

Speaking of Chang, the MACO was looking at Reed and waiting for the lieutenant to come out with the purpose of his visit. A bag lay open on the bed and stacks of clothes sat beside it.

"When you accompany Dr. Brainerd around, I would like you to pay particular attention to the company she keeps on Earth," Malcolm jumped right in.

"You want me to spy on her?" Chang cut to the chase.

"Yes," Malcolm admitted. "I know your friendship with the doctor is personal and would make any attempt to gain information through subtlety seem distasteful, but I would like to know more about her and the company she keeps." He looked hard at the MACO. "I would like to know what hold she has over Admiral Gardiner that keeps her aboard this ship when her behavior dictates that she should be removed."

"Yes, sir. I'll do whatever I can." Chang saluted properly, but hated this mission along with the sinking feeling in his gut.

"Glad to know I can count on you, Sergeant." Malcolm used the title to reinforce Chang's commitment to duty. He turned to leave.

"Sir?"

Malcolm turned around.

"Can I bring you something from Earth? The last time we departed from Earth, it was a little early and several of the crew have asked for a few things they forgot."

"Oh," Malcolm was surprised. It hadn't occurred to him to get souvenirs. "No, thank you. I have everything I need."

Chang nodded and watched the lieutenant depart.

* * *

Andie and Daniel stepped onto the transporter alcove and prepared to transfer to the _Sarajevo_. The captain of the transport had been amused to discover that he had to come aboard and sign Andie's transfer papers in person, but Admiral Gardiner had insisted. She waited until he finished and shook his hand.

"Please call me Dr. Andie," she said with a smile.

The captain chuckled nervously until understanding dawned. "I though I was carrying the famous Doctor Brainerd?" He looked disenchanted as his close brush with fame evaporated.

Her smile froze, but she remained gracious. "I'm the famous doctor's daughter. I'm afraid you'll have to suffer my company instead."

Captain Archer suddenly understood how hard it must be to stand in the long shadow of her absent father. He remembered his own assumption about her presence on his ship and felt a little guilt. "Have a safe journey, Doctor," he nodded.

Her lips pulled into a grin, but she wasn't laughing anymore. Her duffel hung over one shoulder and a cat case dangled from the other. She was only taking one feline with her; the other had made himself comfortable in Phlox's lab. "I'll be good," she promised mockingly, just before the transporter broke down their molecules and sent the three over to the other ship.

Emory and Danika arrived and were sent on as well. The two missile casings carrying the remains of two young men had already been secured aboard the smaller vessel. As the last of the guests left, Archer sighed with relief. It had been extremely stressful, more so than he'd realized.

"Let's get some real exploring done before she comes back!" he grinned, slapping his Chief Engineer on the back as they headed down the hall.

"Fine, but if we find anything good, she'll be doubly pissed off when she gets back!" Trip smirked.

"So we'll stick to boring," Archer agreed. "Hey, how's Malcolm?"

They turned a corner, chatting about the near future.

* * *

The fresh sweet air of San Francisco blew across her skin, eliciting a shiver. After a month of temperature regulated rooms, it was shocking to walk across the great lawn in the mild misty morning. Chang marched at her side, dressed impeccably in his brown and black MACO gear. The Erickson's had already been escorted away by a security detail and damn near a whole fleet of admirals. Andie hadn't descended from the shuttle until they were all gone.

She navigated the complex corridors to the Admiral's office with ease, knocking familiarly on the door and entering without waiting for permission. "Admiral," she smiled.

"Doctor," he replied. She stepped forward and offered her hand and he took it with familiarity. She leaned in and kissed his bushy cheek. "You're in quite a pickle but I see you do know how to dress for the occasion," he growled.

She wore a black silk suit, with an A-line skirt and a military jacket with a neru collar. Her hair had been scraped into a bun at the nape of her neck and she wore eyeglasses on a chain around her neck. She still carried her two bags in hand.

"This is Ensign O'Reilly," he indicated a young man with round cheeks and a nervous manner standing at his side. "This is Doctor Andrea Brainerd. You'll be serving as her liaison for the next forty-eight hours."

"He looks fragile," she commented, looking over the young man.

"You're supposed to teach them, Andie, not break them!" Gardiner growled. She ignored his tone. He nearly always growled, even when he was pleased.

"You're the one who's supposed to train them," she protested. "If I can reduce them to tears in less than eighteen hours, then you're doing it wrong!" Leaning her head toward Chang she pretended to confide in him. "The last one didn't survive two days with me."

Facing O'Reilly, she frowned. "I move fast. I never sleep, and every time you approach me, it's a good idea to carry a fresh cup of coffee. Do you think you can keep up?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. "How do you like your coffee?"

She grinned. "Ooh! He's spunky! I like that! Cream, no sugar!"

The Admiral broke in. "O'Reilly! Give Chang a two-day pass! If she's spending all her time here, surrounded by Admirals and attorneys, then the armed guard is unnecessary."

"I'm here to protect the Doctor," Chang responded, with a quick look at the Andie.

Gardiner waved away his protests. "She's not getting away that easily. I'm familiar with her work. I have a full team of Starfleet security specialists on tactical alert this weekend." His blue eyes twinkled even as he scowled at her.

"You have no faith in Starfleet's regular security?" she queried in mock horror. "Come on, Admiral! You've got a twenty-four hour snitch on my tail. What could I possibly do, other than, maybe stick my foot in my mouth?"

Snorting, Admiral Gardiner signaled the pad handed to him by the ensign. "Be back here day after tomorrow by oh-eight hundred or she leaves without you!" he barked and saluted as a send off.

"Doctor, I should stay with you," Chang disagreed.

"Nonsense! Go see your wife," she told him. He looked surprised. She gestured at his hand. "I saw you put it on just before we landed." The gold band shone in the sunlight. "I'll be good. The Admiral is looking after me."

He hesitated.

"If you stay any longer, I'll set fire to stuff, just to spite you," she told him with an impish smile.

"Has anyone ever told you, you have trouble with impulse control?" he grinned.

"Shoo! Go away! You're bothering me!" she waved her hands to hurry him away and left without any alternatives, Chang disappeared down the corridor and out to the hangar bay to catch a shuttle.

She snapped her fingers at the ensign. "Now would be a good time to get some fresh coffee. And if my quarters are ready at the dorm, you could offer to take my luggage." O'Reilly nodded and she transferred both cases to his hands with specific instructions on how to care for Josephine. O'Reilly seemed happy to get away from the bossy doctor.

"Tell me what happened on board," the old man grumbled, now that they were alone.

She offered the short version of recent events. "It's going to be my recommendation that Emory be evaluated for transporter psychosis."

"Nobody gets psychosis anymore!" That diagnosis would cause a panic among those who used the transporter pads on a regular basis. The thought gave Gardiner a headache.

"They got it when he was performing the first tests," she pointed out. "The diagnosis would make his actions easier to bear," she added. "Especially since we've worked out the kinks in the bio-matter controls since then."

"And the girl?" He escorted her through the room to his inner office.

"She was taking care of her father," Andie replied. She wasn't sure she believed that, although she wouldn't make the recommendation just for Archer. After spending two days on board a transport with the woman, she thought that getting her out from under her father's thumb might be a good idea.

"She should have reported him to the authorities!" Gardiner barked.

"Would you report your parents?" she asked.

"Of course I would!" he agreed vociferously.

"Would you report your in-laws?" she asked sweetly. Gardiner adored his wife; it was the only softness she'd ever seen in him. He'd do anything to protect his spouse.

He hesitated.

"Offer leniency," she advised, stepping inside the door. He left her inside his sanctum and went to drop off some instructions with his secretary. He found her perusing the stack of padds left of his desk. The ones on top were filled with possible designs for the space stations that Starfleet hoped to launch.

"I like this one," she pointed to one that had a ball in the center surrounded by an outer ring. "That one," she pointed to a long structure with spinning platforms at the bottom, "would be hard to evacuate in an emergency."

"You're not supposed to peruse my work," he chided.

"Then don't leave it out when you know I'm coming by," she retorted. She noted something else underneath that she found more interesting, but made no remark on it to the Admiral.

The Admiral frowned to cover up a grin. He had left the padds on the table on purpose, knowing she would look them over. He was always interested in her ideas. "Tell me about your other project," he commanded as he led her out the door to the first of many meetings.


	29. Chapter 29

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 29

* * *

Phlox wandered into the Mess Hall and helped himself to a late lunch. The morning had passed slowly as he realized how much he'd come to rely on the sassy doctor for noise and movement. She was always fluttering from one side of Sickbay to another, a result, he supposed, of the excessive doses of caffeine she consumed everyday. The commotion was soothing to his emotional state; Denobulan society was known for its hustle and bustle. He'd missed her during her confinement.

Liz Cutler did what she could to keep his mind occupied, but unlike their first year in space when she had a lot of time on her hands, she'd found other friends aboard ship with which to fraternize. Ensign Black put in his time in Sickbay and then spent his off-duty hours with various fellows. Phlox often heard him mention a card game involving flushes and one-eyed jacks. The Denobulan had occasion to wonder how these ailments came to be part of a game.

Holding a plate of food in his hands, he looked around the room. The late hour left most of the tables empty, although there were a few crewmembers seated around the room. As often happened, they didn't seem overly enthusiastic to invite Phlox to join them, although he knew they would happily allow him to join them if he asked. Sighing, he supposed it had something to do with his tendency to help himself to tidbits from their plates. It was a common habit on his home planet that was seriously discouraged among human society. He would be happy to tell them that there were more germs to be found in accepting a hand shake from their fellow species than there were in snatching a snack from someone else's plate, but he wasn't certain that information would comfort them.

Deciding to eat alone for now, Phlox made for a seat near one of the windows. When people came into the Mess, the tables closest to the windows filled up quickly, and therefore it was more likely that the socially adept doctor would have a dining companion before he'd finished his meal if he sat there.

It amazed him that after four years with these people they would accept him as one of their own, but they still had trouble reaching out to him because he was different. Shrugging, he chewed thoughtfully on something Chef called risotto. Humans were no different than many species that inhabited the stars. They would come around eventually.

Doctor Andie had no trouble adapting to his presence or any of his other habits though. She had eagerly watched him clip his toenails to feed to his creatures, commenting on the nutritional value of the discarded clippings. Earnestly she had studied the slime that coated his tongue, offering a sample from her own tongue so that they might compare the oral bacteria the other carried. Andie took a deep interest in papers that Phlox had written over the years, refuting his results in the evenings, often loudly and with boisterous hand gestures. They sat in the background on more than one occasion and compared notes on the social habits of the crew. The female doctor didn't seem to have the same reticence to discuss the personal habits of the rest of the crew; she saved her reticence for questions that were personal to her.

All in all she made for good company, and Phlox found he missed her presence on board. The doors swished open and he raised his face eagerly to greet the newcomer to the Mess Hall. It was Crewman Quill, a member of the science team. She raised her hand in greeting to Phlox, but after she'd filled a mug with tea, she left through the other door, leaving the Denobulan to his own thoughts.

* * *

Malcolm found Trip underneath the warp core. All that was visible were the standard issue Starfleet boots.

"You're going to miss the movie," Malcolm teased as he bent down to get a better look at his friend.

"I wanted to get these power relays squared away before we run into another hostile alien species," Trip grunted.

"I hear Travis picked out this film," Malcolm went on, leaning comfortably against the surprisingly cool metal of the core. "It's no wonder you'd remain here and work." An easy smile stretched across his face as though heavy burdens had been lifted from his mind.

Trip slid out of his awkward position and sat upright, wiping his face with the back of his hand and leaving a trail of grease across his nose. "It's pretty quiet tonight. I'm sure he'll have quite a turnout." His glum expression slid past Malcolm's awareness.

"Yes," he agreed. "It's very peaceful." He was relieved to excuse the guards that had been trailing the new doctor. In addition to not worrying about scheduling extra shifts, he was vastly relieved to not go near her to check on their progress.

"You know Lizzie used to give me the cookies out of her lunch sack when we were in school?" Trip's voice was definitely wistful, dragging Malcolm's attention back to him.

"You're thinking about your sister?"

Trip flushed. "Andie makes sure her morning rounds end at the Mess Hall by ten hundred hours, just as Chef sets out the fresh cookies. She brings me one everyday." He sighed. "I didn't get my cookie today."

"I can arrange for a steward to bring you pastries if you like," Malcolm offered, feeling his smile fade at the mention of the volatile doctor.

Trip sighed again. "No, it wouldn't be the same," he added regretfully. He paused. "When we were kids, Lizzie used to give me one of the cookies out of her lunch bag. Not both, of course, but she'd share." Trip's wry grin stole across his face. "She comes through Engineering about nineteen hundred hours to make sure I had dinner too."

It didn't take much to realize that he was talking about the doctor again. "Are you sure your relationship with the doctor is appropriate?" Malcolm questioned tersely.

Trip pinned him with a look. "There's nothing inappropriate about my relationship with Andie!"

"It would not seem so since you've so readily adopted her as your missing sister."

"I know Lizzie's dead, and I know Andie's not really my sister, but it makes me feel better to pretend there's still someone around who cares about me, you know?" Trip's voice tightened with tension.

"She's a dangerous woman," Malcolm countered.

"I can't believe that. Trip shook his head. "You seem to have forgotten, she's saved my life! She's saved yours, too!"

"She could have sent the Klingons to attack in the first place, and then pretended to save us in order to ingratiate herself!"

"I meant from the snow wolves."

A tense silence filled the room.

"If she had confided her fears about the research team..." The argument was getting stale.

"I don't blame her for not trusting you. You've been against her from the moment she stepped on board. That's just not like you!" Trip felt awkward having this conversation in the middle of Main Engineering, but there was no stopping it now. He and Jon had talked for a very long time after Emory left and Trip learned all the facets of Malcolm's in depth search into the doctor. He was chagrined to realize how he'd drifted away from Malcolm during the war. All that effort he'd exerted to get to know the shy armory officer in the first two years had gone to waste in the middle of a hell in which they could all have used some comfort. He had no idea what was driving the quiet man these days.

In turn, Malcolm was squirming inside. He didn't want to talk about his feelings. He didn't want to acknowledge his worries. He just wanted to make Enterprise as safe as possible for every person on board and if that meant exposing the doctor's secrets and turning every one else against her presence, then he was prepared to do it. If Trip hated Malcolm later for driving the doctor away, then that was the price Malcolm was willing to pay. He'd done much worse than that before. He frowned. Those were other moments he didn't like to talk about. He closed his mind to his inner voice.

"Perhaps, Commander," he spoke in an icy voice, "You don't know me very well at all." He pulled his shoulders back stiffly and saluted before swinging around on his heel and leaving the room.

Trip caught the eye of Lieutenant Hess, who'd been trying to discreetly redirect anyone who came in this direction away from the altercation between the two officers. "He's a little uptight today," he explained lamely, feeling like a heel for denigrating the man he called friend.

"He's been a little uptight since we left Earth," Hess agreed in a low voice. "Wonder what happened there?" She shifted on her feet and held out a pad. "The transporter repairs are complete. I'd like to get to the movie, if you don't mind putting off the inspection until morning."

"Sure," Trip agreed absently. "Make a note in the maintenance log and get out of here." Focusing his blue eyes on her deep brown ones, he forced a smile to his face.

The petite woman grinned back. "Good night, sir." She turned and crossed the room to dismiss the repair team before heading back to her room for a quick shower and change of clothes. "Don't you stay up too late working on the old girl, now," she cautioned over her shoulder as she trailed her fingers across the warp engine.

Trip liked the sassy dark-skinned woman. She was sweet as sugar until you pissed her off; then she could rip you a new orifice with the fiery words that flew out of her mouth. He ought to start grooming her to take her own command someday. She definitely deserved it.

Throwing his tools back into his kit, he stood and stretched his aching muscles. Now might be a good time to exhibit a little leadership himself. He went to his quarters for a shower before heading out to find Malcolm.

* * *

Jonathan Archer leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck with his hand.

He'd been going over the maintenance reports, and each item of damage made the ache in his chest intensify. Emory had been his friend, no, more like his father, and yet in the last few days, Jon came to understand that he didn't know the man at all.

Emory was a man obsessed with righting the wrongs of his past. He was fixated with doing what he thought was right, at the expense of human life and Jon had allowed him on board his ship, had welcomed him with open arms and allowed his feelings to overcome his judgment. The old man had used him. Emory wasn't who Jon thought he was.

The same questions rolled around in his head regarding Andie. He'd recruited his tactical officer to take charge and defend his ship, and Malcolm was just doing his job by verifying Andie's qualifications, but Jon had begun to have doubts about the investigation. She'd been the source of several disturbances since she came on board, but she worked very hard. She could also take care of herself in a tense situation. She had instinctively placed herself in danger in order to defend other members of his crew.

His mind turned to the conversation they'd had recently. She'd been part of one of the most gruesome colonization efforts in Earth history. Surviving the dangers on the Donovan Martian Colony had proved more difficult than most adults could endure, and she'd been a child. Although he could find no records of her presence, he didn't doubt that she'd been there. He could hear it in her voice. He believed her when she said her involvement was classified.

Sipping coffee that had grown cold, Jon considered some more recent developments in his own life. He had always hated that word: classified. It was the exact word that the Vulcan's had used against his father's requests for more knowledge of warp engines. When he was small he thought it was the word used to keep knowledge from those that deserved to have it. Now he knew differently. Matters that had occurred in the Expanse were considered classified, and he'd been instructed not to speak of them without clearance. Early in their exploration a colony had been destroyed from the ignition of their atmosphere. _Enterprise_ and her crew had been cleared of any wrongdoing but the matter was still deemed classified. Jon told himself that nobody on Earth needed to know that fifteen hundred people had died there. It was information that had almost torn his crew apart.

Andie's work must be something special indeed if a woman so young could hold the confidence of high ranking officials. If he was honest, he would admit that Gardiner was a good officer, and a good man, if a little hot-tempered. He couldn't believe that the gruff old man would go to bat for someone that wasn't worth it.

Rolling his head around on his neck, Jon found that he was tired. More than anything else, he was tired of feeling like he was making the wrong decision with every move he made. He couldn't imagine why he ever expected the universe to welcome humanity with open arms, but every time it didn't, he had to worry that his decisions would get someone else killed. The weight that pressed on his shoulders whenever he sat in the big chair was wearing him out. He really didn't want to spend his time looking over his shoulder at one little woman. He didn't want to believe that his crew was anything but hardworking deserving individuals.

Most of all he just didn't want to be angry anymore. It wasn't...logical. His mouth twisted into a smile at his subconscious choice of words.

He made a resolution. When Andie returned, they would sit down and have a long off the record conversation even if he had to tie her to a chair. Then they would put this matter behind them and go on about the business of exploring this massive galaxy.

Letting go of his antagonism went a long way to relieving the ache in his chest.

* * *

The movie had started and most of the crew was seated in the Mess Hall to watch a film about two kids stranded on an island, but Trip was not among the audience. He was standing outside the door of his friend, ringing the bell with his little finger.

Malcolm opened the door with a distracted expression on his face. "Yes?" His vision cleared. "Commander Tucker!" He stepped back. "Come in, sir."

"This isn't official business, Malcolm," Trip raised an eyebrow reproachfully. "It's a peace offering."

Reed eyed the bottle, glasses and pack of cards that Trip held up, and met the blue eyes that watched him carefully. "I could tell it wasn't an official visit by the way my eyes bled when they got a look at your shirt," he mentioned dryly.

Trip was especially fond of this red shirt with large pineapples and monkeys and put on an injured air. "You don't like my shirt? I ordered one just like it to give you on Christmas," he joked.

Both men grinned, a little bashfully.

"I was working too hard and I just snapped," Trip started.

"I just haven't been feeling like myself lately," Malcolm apologized at the same time.

"That's for sure," Trip snorted. "The crew is beginning to take notice."

Malcolm looked concerned. "I didn't realize my feelings were so evident." He took the glasses that the engineer offered and glanced at the bottle. "Bourbon? Don't you remember what happened the last time we drank bourbon?"

Trip grinned. "I don't think we're going to freeze to death this time." He poured two healthy doses and offered one of the glasses to the tactical officer.

They raised their drinks in a toast.

"To T'Pol's bum?" Malcolm suggested with a wicked glint in his eye.

He received a dirty look. "How about Doctor Andie's bum?" retorted Trip with a glower.

"How about we drink to peaceful exploration?" Malcolm changed his toast.

Trip smirked. "That sounds about right," he agreed. They tipped back their glasses.

"Gin?"

"I thought we were drinking bourbon?" Malcolm teased.

"I meant the game!" Trip waved the cards around.

"That would be fine," Malcolm pulled a stool from his cupboard and they crowded around the desk.

Trip shuffled and dealt out the first hand. Fanning the cards in front of his face, he tried to adopt a casual tone. "So what did you do on Earth?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"After we got back from the Expanse," Trip clarified, feeling his cheeks burn. He wasn't good at subterfuge. "What did you do while you were on Earth?"

"I visited with my family, and I read a few books," Malcolm answered, picking up the king of spades. He threw down the six of hearts.

"That all?" Trip wondered, picking up and dropping his cards without really looking at them.

"Are you fishing for something in particular?" Malcolm asked, eyeing his friend.

Trip exhaled loudly, laying his cards face down on the table in front of him. "Some of the crew thought that maybe something bad happened to you there. You've been sorta short-tempered lately."

Malcolm sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair. "I went to Hayes' memorial service," he admitted. "He was a good officer and he was too young to die. Then I went straight to Starfleet Command to welcome a new recruit, someone I used to know. I can't help thinking that..." His voice trailed off.

"That our lives are in danger?" Trip filled in. Sometimes, even recently, he woke in the middle of the night ready to get back to repairing the ship, something that had occurred often during their war efforts. It was hard to remember that they were safe now.

"I wish that boy would pick another job," Malcolm spoke softly. "The Xindi attacked us from out of nowhere. When we got done with that job, humanity was nearly annihilated by one of its own. Then we were thrown into the middle of a Vulcan-Andorian war. The Vulcans have been a stable faction in Earth's history for longer than I can remember! It seems that nothing we do matters. It feels like the world is falling apart."

Trip leaned back, his cards forgotten. "We're keeping it together out here." He said the words and wondered if he believed them.

"Are we?" Clearly Malcolm had no such dilemma. "In the last two months we've been attacked by wolves and Klingons and asteroids." He chose his words carefully. "I'm not sure I can tolerate losing one more person."

"You're not going to lose anyone," Trip countered.

"I nearly lost the new doctor several times and she hasn't been here very long."

"Andie's not going to get lost," Trip said softly. "She's stronger than she looks."

Malcolm eyed him dubiously. "You're only saying that because she wants to see you with your pants off." That pain in his midsection had to do with a bad dinner choice; it had nothing to do with jealousy, Malcolm told himself.

Trip chuckled. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'm sure there's a woman out there right now that wants to take your pants too."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Malcolm retorted, filling the glasses and picking up his cards again. "I wound up alone in our alternate timeline."

Trip thought of the way that the reticent man before him flushed with rage every time the new doctor walked near. "Maybe you were meant for the right woman, not just any ol' one," he suggested. His face softened when he thought of the way that T'Pol's hand on his arm made his knees weak.

Malcolm threw the bottle cap at him and he ducked. "Stop playing matchmaker," he commanded. "I'm a confirmed bachelor." He hadn't failed to notice the softening expression when Trip thought about Andie's infatuation with his pants. He had no idea that the doctor was not the source of the hungry look.

"I promise!" Trip chuckled. "We'll find you some nice lady, a real lady, not some fly by night medic, and she'll treat you just fine!"

"Can we find you a muzzle?"

"Oooh! Didn't know you were into bondage!"

"Gin."

"Gin! We're drinking bourbon!" Trip looked at the cards. "How can you have gin? We just got started!"

"You should pay more attention to the little things, Commander."

"I'm going to get you this time," Trip promised, feeling the liquor flood his head. "And your little dog too!" He was feeling nice and loose now, thanks to the liquid he consumed.

"I have no idea what that means." Malcolm snickered.

They played cards and drank until late in the evening.

* * *

Late the next afternoon, Reed rang the chime and stepped into the captain's ready room. "You wanted to see me, sir?" He stood at attention in front of the desk.

"I did, Malcolm," Archer sighed. "I know I said I wanted to know more about Andie, but some new information has come into my possession. I want you to call off whatever investigation you're conducting." He eyed the lieutenant. "That means ending any private inquiries you're conducting as well."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Malcolm kept his eyes on the wall.

He stared hard at Malcolm. "Andie is part of the crew, Malcolm and I don't want there to be any further divisions on my ship."

"Of course not, sir. I would defend her as I would any other person on board, sir."

The 'sirs' were beginning to grate on Archer's nerves. "That's all I needed, Malcolm. You're dismissed."

Malcolm turned to go but hesitated. "May I ask what information you received to change your mind, sir?"

Archer cringed to hear the words leave his mouth. "I can't tell you that, Malcolm. It's...classified."

Reed didn't make a sound, only nodded his head and left the room.


	30. Chapter 30

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 30

* * *

The meetings dragged on in a day Andie Brainerd had become convinced would never end. Finally released from professional obligations for the evening, she changed into more casual garb and slipped out of the Starfleet dorms. There was one moment, as she stood on the well-maintained lawn overlooking the bay, that she had doubts about her next endeavor. Sighing, she knew it was time to earn her keep in a way that didn't exist on official Starfleet records. Making her way in the fading light of day, she crossed the threshold of another complex on the far side of the compound.

Entering the double glass doors she offered her security pass-card to the guard at the station. He glanced at it and smiled in a weary perfunctory manner. She maintained her bored professional expression; it would have caused too much interest if she appeared cheery. The halls were nearly deserted at the late afternoon hour. If anyone remained at work, they would be thinking about recreational distractions very shortly. Andie was no exception.

She tried not to feel guilt at pinching the codes from the confidential documents on his desk. Gardiner allowed her to look at classified materials for a reason, she told herself, and as always he expected that there would be some follow up. She had a particular interest in this complication.

Moving quickly through the halls, she found the unmarked door she sought. Pulling a different pass-card out of the pocket of her white lab coat, she used the pilfered code to open the door to a wide room. Several different doors on the sides led to dorms, lavatories, classrooms and even a medical ward. There were more than two dozen people in the common room, but although the room fell silent at her entrance, only one came to challenge her in the sudden stillness her presence had wrought.

That woman was a voluptuous redhead who stepped forward briskly. "Is there something I can do for you, Doctor?" her southern twang rang in Andie's ears. "We usually get left alone after dinner, and we like our private time."

"This isn't a medical visit," Andie began. "We have a mutual acquaintance."

"Who do you think we might have in common?" the redhead questioned coldly.

"I presently serve aboard the starship _Enterprise_," Andie answered, watching the spark of recognition. "Captain Jonathan Archer would never forgive me if I didn't look in on you while I was in town." That was only a tiny lie, she told herself. Archer _would_ probably ask if he knew.

"Is he here?" the redhead asked. Hope sprang up in her blue eyes.

"I'm afraid not. I'm attending some conferences here. My shuttle leaves day after tomorrow." Andie held out a hand. "My name is Andie, by the way."

"My name is Bethany," the other woman smiled as they shook hands.

The others seemed to decide there was nothing wrong with this stranger and went back to their board games.

"You must have some powerful friends if they let you in here," Bethany eyed her shrewdly.

"One of the Admiral's is a friend of mine," Andie prevaricated. He may be a friend but he might not appreciate her making friends with the individuals here. She reminded herself that it was his fault for leaving private documents lying around where she might find them, along with his key card. "But I also know the value of a good bribe," she grinned. Popping the top off the case she carried, she pulled out a pink baker's box and handed it to the Skagaran alien.

Bethany peeked under the lid. "I love cake," she smiled with delight.

"Good! I brought three kinds," Andie smiled. She reached back into the silver crate for two more boxes and a bag of finely ground beans. In short order two dozen Skags, rescued from a planet in the Expanse, were enjoying the delights of fresh cake and coffee.

Bethany stood back with Andie and watched the others eat. "You're not here to feed us cake," she surmised in a low tone so the others wouldn't hear.

"No, ma'am. I'm here to make an evaluation. I need your help." She lowered her voice to exclude the others. "Starfleet has never really taken in folks like the Skagaran colony before. They want to be sure that this is what you want before suffering the trials of adaptation. There have been some reports that y'all have had some trouble with the requirements of this society." Andie fell naturally into a drawl when talking with this woman.

"Do you mean like little Talia who refuses to wear shoes? Or Sheriff MacReady who believes that women should stay home and make babies?" Bethany noted cynically. "It's hard to understand the rules out _there_ when we're locked up in _here_ all day."

"So..." Andie looked at the alien out of the corner of her eye, "...you want to get out of here?"

At Bethany's shocked expression, Andie went on, nodding at the others in the room. "They trust your judgment. Would you like the chance to evaluate us?"

Bethany quivered with excitement. "But there're guards and rules and ..." Her voice trailed off.

Andie's grin widened. She pulled off her white lab coat and Bethany saw another one just like it underneath. "Leave it to me," she promised, dragging the alien to a more private location in one of the bedrooms off the main lounge.

Andie wore a double layer of clothing and it wasn't difficult to slip off one set and offer it to the other woman. Grinning widely now, Bethany pulled off the white scrubs that were worn by all the Skags in the Starfleet Detention Center and put on the short plaid skirt and the light sweater, similar to the one the doctor wore. Andie pulled a small compact out of her pocket and tinted Bethany's eyelids and lips with soft, shiny colors.

Both donned the white lab coats and slipped out the door, once again using the key card that Andie had purloined from Admiral Gardiner's office. It was Saturday, and he wouldn't need it again until Monday.

Striding down the hall to the security checkpoint, Bethany began to falter. "I can't do this," she whispered. She fidgeted with the glasses that Andie had sat upon the bridge of her nose to hide her features and the pen that held her long hair in an untidy bun on her head.

"Sure you can," Andie encouraged. She slipped another card in Bethany's pocket and smiled at the guard on her left, who was not the same guard that let her in, thanks to the late hour and the swing shift.

As instructed, Bethany handed the pass-card Andie had given her to the guard, and tried to appear intent on studying the pad in her hand.

Andie leaned on the counter and purred at the guard. "Long night?" she asked, giving an inviting look to the guard, who was distracted by the extra space exposed by an unfastened button at the vee in her cherry red sweater. She followed his gaze and blushed. "Goodness! You must think I'm terrible!" She fumbled with refastening the button, shifting her weight to lay her padds down on the security desk and jostling Bethany through the narrow outlet.

"That's all I need! A report that I was flashing security, huh?" Andie teased the man who still couldn't remove his eyes from her cleavage. Grinning ruefully, she beseeched the guard with her eyes. "Is there anything else I need to show you?" she asked, appearing completely embarrassed as she fumbled gathering her padds, and not-so-accidentally hitting a button on his console. It cleared the screen and allowed them both through the checkpoint.

"No, ma'am," he grinned, completely oblivious to anything outside of her cleavage. "It's chilly out there though. Be sure to button up."

"Thanks," she blushed. Andie pushed Bethany, who seemed frozen by the whole ordeal, toward the main doors. "Night!" she waved at the smiling guard before hustling her new friend out the door.

A shuttle hovered nearby and the blond neatly shoved the redhead inside. Bethany stumbled, but was caught by a strong pair of hands. A slender man with bright blue eyes smiled and helped her to a seat. Andie hopped in and slammed the door.

"Let's go, Ensign!" The shuttle bus pulled away from the curb with O'Reilly at the helm.

"That took longer than usual," the handsome man teased.

"What? I stopped for cake!" Andie protested cheerily, fastening her security belt.

Bethany was jolted and reached around for her own belt.

"Bethany, Colt. Colt, Bethany," Andie made the hasty introductions.

"Pleased to meet you," Colt grinned as he showed the newcomer how to fasten the restraint.

Bethany smiled back, awestruck by the pretty man, the interior of the conveyance, and the lights that flashed by giving the illusion of daylight to the dark night sky. Her blue eyes were as round as saucers.

"I couldn't get a table," Colt shrugged. "O'Reilly says there's coffee in the thermos though."

"You're useless," Andie giggled. Picking up the com, she placed a call. "This is Andrea Brainerd. I'd like a table for four in twenty minutes. Uh huh. Yes. Uh huh. Oh, well, all right." She hung up the comm. "We'll have a table in thirty minutes."

"You know all the right people," Colt told her affectionately, tousling her hair. She playfully slapped at his hand.

"People like me; I'm a hoot," she grinned, dialing another number. "Mags! I'm in town one night! Stop seducing your interns and get your butt over to Stefanie's in ten minutes!" She hung up without waiting for an answer. Tossing the comm back to Colt, she asked "Remi?"

To which he answered, "Wifey."

"Right," she nodded with pretend frustration. "I _told_ him that wedding would interfere with our fun." Colt chuckled in agreement.

Andie looked at Bethany who was wriggling around in her seat, trying to see everything out the window at once. "You hungry?"

"Uh huh," Bethany grunted, leaning over to watch the Golden Gate Bridge flash past. She caught Colt's curious gaze and flushed. "It's my first trip to the city," she explained hastily.

"You picked the right tour guide," he assured her as she twisted around to view the tall hotels.

He quietly asked Andie. "How much trouble are we in?" Indicating with a tilt of his head, that he knew the redheaded friend was something peculiar.

"None, as long as we don't get caught!" Andie grinned.

"Damnit, Andie!" he cursed quietly.

"So we don't get caught!" she smiled serenely. "What do you want to do after dinner?"

* * *

A dark haired man with a gorgeous tan and a thick moustache brushed through the curtains closing the booth off from the rest of the restaurant and slid onto the bench seat next to Bethany. "Hello there!" he smiled warmly while staring into her eyes. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Knock it off, Mags!" Andie kicked him under the table. "She's a good girl, not for the likes of you."

With a grunt he pulled his gaze out of Bethany's cleavage and sighed. Standing awkwardly, he stretched over the table and kissed Andie's cheek. "Hey, Babe! Good to see you!" He turned back to Bethany with a smooth smile. "I'm Doctor James Magnum. Please call me...anytime."

"Bethany, feel free to abuse him if he gets fresh with you," Andie told the startled woman merrily.

"No, don't abuse him; he likes it rough," Colt giggled while Bethany blushed.

"Then tell me and I'll abuse him," Andie nodded. She kicked the newcomer under the table again. "Knock it off, Mags!" she repeated.

"Stop calling me Mags!" he grumbled. "I'm Jimmy," he mentioned to Bethany as he slid an arm around the booth behind her shoulders.

"I'm Bethany," said the redhead. "Could you remove your arm, please?" Her drawl was more pronounced.

He leaned back and his arm slid away, but he didn't drop it from its rest. Looking at Andie, he asked, "Got off or kicked off?"

"Conferences," she told him, to indicate her presence in the city rather than on board the ship. He nodded.

"And what do you do?" Jimmy leaned in closer to the female under his arm.

"This is my first time in the city," she said, leaning away from him. "I'm a schoolteacher; although back home I've been known to spend time castratin' the Bluehorns when they got too frisky. By the way, would you remove your hand from my knee?"

There was a moment of silence before Jimmy yanked his hand out from under the table, and Andie and Colt burst out laughing.

"Bethany, you're my new best friend!" Colt chortled at his friend's discomfiture. "I love a girl who can take care of herself!" He patted her on the shoulder.

"Jimmy, sweetie, you might want to come sit next to me!" Andie giggled. In a swift movement, the mustached man swung around to the other side of the table, slinging an arm on the booth around Andie's shoulders.

"You'll fit in just fine, darlin'," Andie grinned at the blushing alien.

A waiter poked his head in to announce that dinner would be ready shortly and to drop off their drinks.

"How is my project coming along, Babe?" Jimmy asked, in a more serious tone as he sipped his scotch.

"It's good," Andie agreed, leaning against him. "There've been some findings of interest."

"No!" Colt interrupted with a shout, pounding the table with a fist. "No! No! She's finally on the ground after months off world, and we are not going to spend all night talking shop!"

Andie and Jimmy looked at him with raised eyebrows. "So anyway," she turned back to Mags, "I installed a sliding door outside of Sickbay and we caught an intruder a few weeks back. They don't retract well, though."

"They're not meant to be used for commonalities," he argued.

"No!" Colt objected again and slammed his fist on the table, spilling his Long Island iced tea. "No more shop talk or I take Bethany and we go someplace good!"

"This isn't someplace good?" she inquired. Colt patted her hand.

"Before you answer that, let me put down these plates," Stephanie, head chef and owner interrupted dryly. Colt had the good sense to look shame faced before the distraction of expertly cooked food took over.

* * *

"So how are you getting along on the ship?" Magnum asked as he drifted lazily on the water with Andie and Colt nearby. One of the perks of knowing so many scientific types in a world devoted to study is the ability to call in favors and travel to various parts of the world at a moment's notice. Right now they were in the waters just off an island near the Hawaiian chain, dressed in wetsuits and drifting on boards, preparing to surf the early morning waves.

"I'm fitting in just fine," she answered firmly, in a voice that should have deterred any further conversation.

"Except for that security guy," Colt interrupted naively. "I'm surprised he hasn't thrown you in the brig yet."

"What security guy?" Jimmy was instantly alert and Andie glared at Colt before answering.

"Just a guy," she answered vaguely. "Everything's fine now. We had a good talk before I left."

"What guy?" Jimmy asked again, not easily put off. He paddled his board closer to Andie. "Does this have anything to do with the guy posing as a reporter and asking questions about you?"

"What guy?" she asked.

"Just a guy," he parroted her answer back at her with a cool stare.

She studied him stubbornly for a moment, trying to figure out if it was worth trying to finagle information out of a man who wasn't as easy to manipulate as the rest of her friends. "There's a guy on board who thinks my background is incomplete, and he's dogging me to find out the rest of it," she answered sullenly.

"Two thugs showed up looking for background information. I didn't give them any but they don't look like the type to just go away," he responded.

They both thought about that silently as Colt paddled idly around them in the dark. "These aren't nice guys, Andie," Jimmy told her quietly so as not to upset Colt, who was especially displeased when bad things happened around Andie. "Whatever you have to do to make nice with this security guy and get him off your tail, you do it."

"I've got it handled," she replied defensively.

"No! You don't!" he snapped. "You stay away from him!"

He rarely raised his voice, so when he argued he was usually right. "Fine," she agreed. "Can we surf now, or do you want to bully me some more?" Her voice was tight.

"Let's surf."

* * *

On shore a shy ensign roused a sleeping woman from the blankets she rested on near the remains of a fire pit. "Ma'am, if you want to see them walk on water, now's the time to look."

Bethany woke and peered sleepily across a vast body of water, just able to make out three figures on the edge of the horizon. The sun was just rising as she sat up and she forgot about being thirsty as she watched them slide gracefully along the curve of a wave. The two men twisted and turned; one of them riding through a tube of water, the other rising up in silhouette to hover in mid-air before landing neatly on his board, avoiding the other. The female form took a more sedate pace, without fancy tricks or showboating.

"Wow!" Bethany breathed. She'd never even seen the ocean before and this was more excitement than she thought she could take. It had been a magical evening.

There had been dinner and dancing and then a tour of the orbital science facility where Colt worked. He spent his days there doing things she didn't understand, but Andie obviously did because they talked for a long time. They'd been transported down here, not a feat she thought she wanted to repeat, and sat for a while on the sand until Bethany had fallen asleep.

She watched them go out to catch several more waves before Andie jogged out of the water, carrying a long board and shaking water out of her hair.

"That was amazing," Bethany breathed. "Do you think I could do something like that?"

"Not tonight," Andie told her with a smile. "It's not good to learn in the dark, but I'm sure you could learn if you stay on Earth." She flopped down on the sand and used a laser to heat the rocks in front of her so that they emitted heat without smoke or fire. The women spent an hour chatting quietly until both men joined them on the sand.

"How about breakfast?" Jimmy asked. They returned to his villa and changed into dry clothing. When they were dressed they called the orbital science station for a transport.

* * *

They landed on the main continent near a diner and walked the few steps to the entrance. Outside Andie noticed two creatures fussing about under the hood of a land shuttle, and wandered over to offer assistance.

"You look like you could use some help?" she asked, smiling with goodwill.

The two aliens were Denobulan, she could see as she drew nearer, but they didn't exhibit any of the familiar cheery warmth of the Denobulans she knew.

"We're fine, thank you," the male replied in clipped and wary tones. He appeared to have a bruise on the side of his face.

"I was just going to have breakfast with my friends," she gestured to the other three who noticed her absence and wandered over. "Can we call a repair crew, or something?"

The female took up a defensive posture near the male, and fingered a heavy looking tool. "We'll be fine, thank you. We wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

"I work for Starfleet," Andie told them, puzzled by their reluctance to accept help. "It wouldn't be any trouble."

At the mention of the space organization both aliens seemed to relax. "Perhaps we could use some help after all," the male admitted.

Jimmy walked over to peer under the hood while Andie offered to check out their injuries. Colt lingered with Bethany who watched with wide eyes. The Denobulans introduced themselves as Zylyssa and Munza.

Munza, the male, told the humans that they had been studying the coastal marine zoology when they were set upon by a group of young men who told them that 'their kind' didn't belong here and that they should go home. The gang had damaged the transport shuttle and Munza was pushed when he tried to stop it, striking his head on the ground.

"It's the first time we've been exposed to unpleasant behavior," Zylyssa chimed in. "We thought you might be coming back to finish the job."

"I'm so sorry," Andie apologized. It seemed to world was going to hell.

"I've already called a repair service," Colt broke in, dislodging his com from his ear. "Would you care to join us for breakfast until they arrive?"

Both Denobulans smiled widely. "That would be wonderful. Thank you for your invitation," Munza agreed.

"It is so kind of you," Zylyssa echoed.

The larger party made their way to the diner and settled in a booth near the door. A silent and unsmiling man brought mugs of coffee for everyone and there was the usual round of introductions and small talk.

After a lengthy wait, Andie got up to check on the delay. She found the waiter having a quiet conversation with a scowling man in a cardigan.

"Excuse me, but we're ready to order now." Her tone was polite, but there was something about their demeanor that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

The men exchanged glances until the cardigan wearer stepped forward. ""I'm the manager here. We don't serve their kind." He nodded at the Denobulans.

Jimmy always kept an eye on Andie and recognized the sudden straightening of her posture as a sign of trouble. He tipped a wary eye at Colt and got up to join the doctor.

"Problem?" he queried easily, resting a hand on the small of her back to calm her.

"They won't serve us breakfast," she hissed coldly.

"We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone," the manager replied, looking at the much taller man. "We don't serve the bumpy kind here."

"They are Denobulan, you jackass!" Andie hissed. "They are much better behaved than some humans I've met!" The indication was clear.

"They are not welcome here," the manager insisted. "We've given them coffee because of their trouble outside, but they can't eat here." He looked at Jimmy. "They'll have to go somewhere else."

"Come on, Babe," he uttered quietly, keeping his tone calm. "Let's take our business elsewhere."

"I will not tolerate this kind of bigotry in the world that I live in!" Struggling to keep her voice low, she thought she couldn't take one more instant of this nonsense. First Burrows' mother with her snide remarks about Phlox and now this sweater-wearing grease-pit manager was talking down to people just because they were different, as though the location of one's birth mattered. She said as much in angry clipped tones.

By now they'd caught the attention of their group at the table. The Denobulans offered their apologies to Colt and Bethany and stood up quietly to leave. As a species they didn't care much for confrontation. Colt offered a hand to Bethany to indicate that they too would be leaving.

Bethany's pained expression caused Colt to place a hand at the small of her back, and she was grateful to get away from the hostile world outside of the confines of Starfleet's walls. For the first time she understood that Starfleet thought they were doing the right thing by protecting the Skags, but she withstood this same prejudicial ugliness on her home world and she didn't think she had the strength to go through it again on another planet.

"Andie?" Jimmy's voice broke into her long-winded tirade, and it was taking on that stubborn tone, the one that indicated he was about to start shouting. "Let's dine elsewhere."

"Thank you for the hot beverage," Zylyssa broke in quietly as Munza waited by the door. "We should wait for the repair men outside." She watched the way the manager shrunk away from her presence as though she carried a plague. Without further words, she and her male companion slipped out the door.

"You stupid jackass!" Andie shouted, stabbing at the air with one angry finger. "You are the most loathsome rat I've ever come across!"

The manager took advantage of Jimmy's distraction with the retreating couple to reach out and capture Andie's finger in one chubby hand, while reaching out to shake his own finger in her face. He never saw the slap coming from the other hand until his head snapped backward.

"Get your hands off me, you pig!"

Like a shot, Jimmy wrapped an arm around Andie's waist and dragged her to the door. "That's enough, Slugger!"

"Put me down!" she gritted.

"That was uncalled for!" Jimmy glowered. "Wait for me outside!" She was about to refuse. "Out!" He pointed with one stern finger, and with a huff Andie turned to go.

Outside, she paced and fumed like a caged animal, watching Jimmy speak with the manager. She knew whatever he had to say would keep them out of the trouble her temper seemed to land them in, as it had in the past. Turning, she saw Colt speaking with the repairman on behalf of the Denobulans. Her ire faded as she saw the white faces of the two alien explorers.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, speaking to Zylyssa. "I should not have created a scene."

"Your defense was admirable, if misplaced," the alien acknowledged. "Not everyone would make the effort." She noted her partner's discolored face. "Perhaps we should return to our vessel. There will more time to study the marine life from the scanners on our ship."

Andie would like to object, but at the moment it seemed impossible to find anything to say. "Not all humans are so objectionable," she uttered quietly.

Zylyssa smiled and nodded before joining Munza in their repaired craft.

Andie saw Bethany eyeing her, and moved to stand next to her with a heavy heart. "You wanted to evaluate us," she stated ruefully. "You've seen the good and the bad."

"This has been interesting," Bethany said quietly. She wrapped her arms around her torso.

"Captain Chaos strikes again!" Colt smirked, striding forward and looping an arm through Andie's. "Where'd you learn to hit like that again?"

"Boarding school," she muttered darkly. "Don't call me Chaos."

"Right," he agreed with a forced jovial tone. "Those bitches fight dirty."

"You have no idea," she grumbled, watching the mustached man come forward. "Are we headed for the Big House?" she asked when he came to a halt.

"Not today," Magnum smiled coolly. "The diner is about to undergo a thorough investigation by the health inspector though. Might I suggest going elsewhere for breakfast?" He looked at Andie who looked at an eager Colt who glanced at a reluctant Bethany.

"I could use another cup of coffee," Bethany suggested shyly.

Andie beamed. "A girl after my own heart!"

* * *

They found another diner, this one full of smiling faces and claimed a booth in the corner. Jimmy noticed Andie favoring one hand, and when he took it in his rough grip he noticed the knuckles had been scraped on one side. "Why didn't you tell me he hurt you?" he demanded angrily.

"I caught the back of my hand on the doorjamb when I was escorted out," she told him bluntly. "It's no big deal." Pulling her hand out of his grasp, she sipped her coffee.

He grimaced that he might have been the one to cause her pain. He felt especially bad since he'd been the one to escort her more roughly than he'd intended.

"Did Andie ever tell you how we met?" Colt tried to ease the tension by striking up a conversation with Bethany. "We were in school and she noticed some older students picking on a younger kid. She told them to stop the hazing, which they didn't do of course, and before the faculty could arrive she'd fought them off like a mother bear defending her cub. She dropped them on the ground like stones." He smiled awkwardly. "She's always coming to somebody's rescue."

"And the rescued boy has followed me around ever since," Andie added dryly, pinching his cheek.

"I don't always follow you around!" Colt objected.

Jimmy snorted with suppressed laughter. "Yeah, sometimes you just moon over her from afar!"

Andie lightly punched Jimmy's arm and tried not to look Colt in the eye.

Colt threw the statement out like an accusation. "Jimmy thinks he's a great surfer, but Andie pulled him out of the drink once or twice!"

"I told her that we've shared mouth to mouth contact and we're practically family!" Jimmy leered, slipping an arm easily around Andie's shoulders.

"We didn't share oral contact! I was resuscitating you, and that was clearly a mistake!" Andie retorted, shoving away from him. "And you apparently have a weird definition of family!" The beautiful morning was beginning to resuscitate their spirits.

Bethany found she enjoyed the easy, playful way the humans interacted together.

"How does your schedule look today?" Colt asked, leaning back and sighing with pleasure at the end of breakfast.

"I have a meeting to check out the Sickbay on Columbia at 1300 hours," Andie admitted. "Want to come with me?" she turned the question to Bethany.

"Shouldn't I be getting back?" the woman asked nervously.

"I thought you might like to see a different sort of future for yourself," Andie shrugged.

"You think I could work on a starship?" Bethany considered the idea thoughtfully.

"I think you can do anything if you work hard enough."

"If anybody knows about hard work, it's Andie," Jimmy grinned. "I don't think she ever sleeps." Leaning forward he planted a kiss on Andie's cheek. "I gotta go, Babe. I don't have enough bail to spring you from the pokey if you get caught again, so be good." His attitude was easy as he stood. "Don't forget; you're falling behind on your reports."

"Yes, Dad," she sighed exaggeratedly.

Colt stood up too. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you, also," he admitted reluctantly. "What are you girls going to do without us men around?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Bethany told him pertly, causing both men to laugh out loud.

"Be careful, Andie," Jimmy admonished as they called for another transport from an orbiting freighter captain that owed Andie a favor. They disappeared.

"What shall we do now?" Andie turned to Bethany with a grin.

"I don't know," Bethany smiled. "The possibilities are endless."

"Indeed, they are," Andie grinned.


	31. Chapter 31

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

It was a terrible thing to be so healthy on a ship where his crewmates were ill. Malcolm sat at his post on the bridge and tried not to worry. Hoshi and Trip were hale and hearty and Phlox was a miracle worker when it came to antidotes.

Despite his reassurances, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was an unwelcome guest on board, and his name was Death.

Malcolm sat up straighter and shook his head. He felt like he was drifting off. He'd had a great deal of trouble concentrating on the job today, and he blamed it on the concern for his friends. He caught a look at Travis and noticed the young man shaking his head and refocusing his energy on the panel in front of him as well.

Archer and T'Pol were down in Sickbay and for the moment, the bridge was under his command. He wondered for a moment if it would do any good to command a leap to warp five and a course back to Earth. Could the doctors at Starfleet Medical make any more sense of the strange disease than did Phlox? Perhaps they could stop at Vulcan on their way. T'Pau owed them a favor; she could command the medics on the austere planet to expend every effort to save his friends.

The worst part of this problem was that there was nothing that Malcolm could do, even if he wanted to. Medical knowledge outside basic first aid was beyond him. He could only sit at his station and be glad that someone else had volunteered to go down to the garbage scow.

Malcolm was horrified to realize that part was true; he was happy that he wasn't the one facing the end of his days. There was so much left he wanted to do. At the same time he knew he would change places with either one if he could. Trip was a good friend. He stood by Malcolm through all the most difficult days and they'd faced them together. And poor Hoshi, he thought, she must be feeling the anxiety worst of all because this disease was the sort of thing she'd always feared.

Looking down he discovered that he'd been clenching his fists and the additional pressure made his wounded knuckle ache. Phlox had administered medicine and had finally allowed him to remove the bandages that wound around his hand, but the joint still throbbed with pain when he used it to excess. He flexed his fingers, thinking of the strong hands of the young doctor who was not currently with them. Could she pull a miracle out of her bag of tricks, the way she seemed to pull defensive skills and language lessons? Would they be out of danger faster with a second doctor on board?

He couldn't shake the feeling that the pall of death hung over the ship. He was certain that if the virus could not be eradicated in Sickbay, that the entire ship would soon be overcome with it. It was easy to imagine the tall shadowy figure huddled in the corner of the ship, scythe in hand, waiting to tap his prey on the shoulder and take them on that final long walk.

Shaking his head, Malcolm tried to get a grip on his emotional state. He was letting his imagination run away with him, something that hadn't happened to him in a long time, and it was time to put a stop to that. Nothing good could come of letting his emotions take over his body.

As per the instructions of his superiors, Malcolm tried to verify the name of some vessels that had been here before. Perhaps one of them had acquired a cure that could be bartered or bought; something that would save the lives of two people that Malcolm would willingly die for.

* * *

Andie had brought Bethany back to the Starfleet dorms, where the Skag had been amused to note that the dormitories where valued personnel stayed were similar to the Detention Center. Her giggle had been interrupted by a yawn, and Andie led her into the bedroom and offered to make her comfortable. Josephine had been reluctant to introduce herself to a new person, but the new person had a soft voice and tucked herself into the blankets providing a warm space to lie against. The cat decided that the newcomer couldn't be so bad, and snuggled against her, purring contentedly. Andie felt comfortable leaving them together while she attended her appointment with _Columbia's_ staff to tour the ship and look over Sickbay.

She returned several hours later with some unusual dinner plans, but before she woke the other woman, she pressed the button on the computer to check her message. Mags had been busy. He may have returned to his island abode, but he sent her another message warning her about Reed and forwarding several news articles she might find important.

Normally she wouldn't care; the media was always getting the details wrong, but in this case the facts were compelling. There was a picture of an alley soaked with rain. There was a chalk outline on the ground. The article was short and to the point. A young man and woman were taking a short cut back to their college campus by way of this alley. Thugs jumped out of nowhere and assaulted the two. The woman fell against a trash receptacle where a cerebral hemorrhage claimed her life almost instantly. The man was discovered nearby, nearly drowned in a puddle on the muddy ground.

There were a few other articles, mostly award ceremonies where a blurry photo showed Reed accepting some accolade or another, but the dead woman in the alley struck a chord in Andie. The culprits had never been caught, which would certainly explain his need for order and justice. He could have died defending the girl. He had a strong protective streak.

It was possible that she understood him better than ever. They were kindred.

She downloaded the message to a data disk which she slipped into her pocket for further study at a later time. Then she got up and fed Josie before waking the sleepy redhead and telling her they were going for another adventure.

* * *

Malcolm tossed and turned in his bunk. The day had ended rather well considering how awful most of it had been. Hoshi, Trip and Archer were all recovering nicely, although Phlox kept them in Sickbay overnight to be sure. Malcolm had heaved a sigh of relief as the tense knots in his shoulders drifted away. It was too bad that his feelings of impotence didn't wither away into the ether as quickly.

The dreams that plagued him were not pleasant ones. They started out all right; but then dreams usually did. It wasn't until you were in the middle of them that they started to go all wrong. In Malcolm's case, his dreams were like watching all the worst parts of his life go by and reliving them all again. This time was no exception.

This dream was going terribly wrong, just like the ones that had preceded it.

Initially he stood on the shore near his aunt and uncle's house. Every summer he and Madeleine were sent there for two weeks to visit with his cousin. How Malcolm despised his cousin! Young Archie was exuberant and reckless. He never seemed to sit still, especially when all Malcolm wanted to do was sit quietly and read.

They were on the boat again. It was a small craft, barely more than a rowboat, although it had a sail. Archie swore he knew how to pilot the small craft and he dragged Malcolm out on the water by threatening to tell Uncle Stuart that Malcolm was being inhospitable. Stuart would be sure that Malcolm knew he should be cordial to his host, and Malcolm would be in trouble either way. So he'd gone out on the boat, regretfully watching the sandy beach disappear in the distance behind them.

Archie jumped around the rigging like a monkey. He knew of his cousin's aversion to water, and taunted him by threatening to tip the small craft over. At one point his foot had tangled in the lines that held the sail in place and had tumbled head first to the deck. Malcolm had laughed out loud. Archie stood up to shake a finger at his cousin, and pretended to fall into the chilly water.

Trying his best to remain dry, eventually Malcolm had been forced to jump in when his cousin didn't appear to surface. He searched and searched through water so churned with sand that he could barely see when he opened his eyes. The currents had taken hold of him and no matter how he kicked his arms and legs, he'd been dragged further and further under the water until he no longer saw daylight stretching through the green waters above. He never could remember the hand that tangled in his hair, pulling him up to the warm deck. He didn't remember the frantic cries of his now terrified cousin as he pounded on Malcolm's chest to force the water out.

He remembered perfectly the long summer he'd spent in and out of hospitals with pneumonia, watching other healthy boys and girls run and play with laughter in the sunshine while his mother forced nasty tasting tonics down his throat to make him better. He caught hell from his father for not being a better swimmer and taking out the boat without permission, but he did have a lot of time to read that summer.

His lonely days of bed rest faded to another kind of lazy day, several years in the future. He was still in bed and the sounds of people were heard outside, but muffled by the sheet hung over the windows as a curtain. These days were much less lonely as a soft hand that didn't belong to him brushed across his bare chest. Well, he grinned faintly in his sleep, it didn't belong to him in the strictest sense, but it was definitely his.

Malcolm gripped Eleanor's hand gently and kissed her fingers. His mind filled in the quiet pillow talk that accompanied their afternoon trysts in between classes at university. He remembered her long brown hair, and deep chocolate eyes. She had the sweetest smile. The Malcolm of the present day knew he wanted to tell her something important but the Malcolm of those days past couldn't remember what the important thing was. He only knew if he didn't tell her soon, that something bad would happen. The sun outside dimmed as clouds obscured the sun.

He remembered getting dressed, sneaking peeks at the shy woman who dressed inside the closet so as to retain her modesty. She wore a dress and he wore a corduroy jacket since college chic was back in style that year. They were surrounded by people at the pub; it was a celebration. But in Malcolm's mind there was nobody there but him and his girl. Everything else was a blur in the background.

The hour was late and he argued with Ellie, the sound filtering through his unconscious as though he was underwater, just a blob of sound. She frowned and pulled away and he followed her. The sky was dark and the wind was chilly. He placed his jacket around her shoulders, feeling the chill seep through to his bones. He felt like he couldn't breathe, just as he couldn't for weeks after the boating accident. It hurt to inhale. When the big fat drops of water began to pelt down, Ellie tugged his arm to the dark corridor, a shortcut through the alley to the dorms. At the time it seemed like a good idea, but in his sleep Malcolm began to moan in protest.

They were caught at the end by four large fellows, wearing hats and scarves that hid their faces. In the dim light at the end of the alley, in a world that no longer cared about money, they were robbed for the possessions they carried. Malcolm regretfully offered up his father's old fashioned wrist watch, and urged Eleanor to hand over her purse. It wasn't enough; they wanted to take her. His reluctance to provoke the attack faded when Malcolm realized that would only happen over his cold dead body. There was a scuffle in the dark wet night. Malcolm was repeatedly struck by more than one fist. He fell to his knees. Eleanor rushed forward and a stray elbow knocked her backward. The heel of her dressy shoes caught in the uneven pavement and she tumbled backward, the sick thud echoing clearly in his mind as her head hit the rubbish bin.

She never drew another breath, although Malcolm fought his way to her side even as darkness narrowed his vision, taking him from her unwillingly. In his dream there was a new twist as Malcolm looked up to see one attacker pause as the rest fled the alley. The scarf had fallen and he saw the face of the new doctor staring fiercely at him, her mouth moving, trying to tell him words he couldn't hear over the sound of the pounding rain. His face dropped into the puddle just as his grasping fingers caught at Eleanor's hand and unconsciousness claimed him.

Shaking his head in the dreamy world he was stuck in, tossing fitfully in a bunk far away from those events, Malcolm raised his head in the quiet world. He was dressed in a black suit. He wasn't in the alley in London, he was in a misty world of San Francisco, standing before the headstone of Major Hayes. Hayes' sister was there, supporting the tiny fragile arm of the dead man's mother, saddened by the loss, but relieved to have something to bury, unlike many of the survivor's of the Xindi attack. The MACO's that had served on Enterprise were there, along with quite a few more that had not had the opportunity to fight to the death with a man they obviously respected.

A minister had been called to say a few words over the gravesite and Malcolm tipped his head respectfully forward while a prayer was said. It happened to be a long one, and in the dream, the minister kept repeating "should have been you" with different inflections in his voice, although in actuality it had been a very moving statement. There was a funny prickle at the back of his neck, as though he was being watched and he lifted his head.

On the other side of the green lawn, clearly intent on the proceedings, but too far away to make out any distinct features, stood a man. A brimmed hat was pulled down low over his eyes, and a long wool trench coat covered his build. Malcolm could only discern the vague size of him. He wasn't too tall, he wasn't too broad and his face was an empty space, devoid of features like an eggshell.

Moving slowly as though trying to run through water, Malcolm pushed his way past the mourners, who took no notice of his presence. He tried to run to get to the man, but weeds entangled his legs and the gravestone sprung up around him like sentries. The faceless man turned to leave and Malcolm reached out for him, barely touched his coat, before succumbing to the vines growing up his legs. He fell forward, into the only patch of water in the cemetery. The angle of his body made it impossible to raise his head, and he could only lie there pinned down and drowning where nobody could hear his cries.

A hand tangled in his hair, pulling his head backward and baring his throat. The faceless man growled in his ear with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth like a shark's, _"You can't get away from me."_ The man made a swiping motion with his hand and Malcolm felt the cool blade slice into his throat, severing the artery. He dropped Malcolm's head back into the puddle, leaving the man to die, either by drowning or by bleeding to death. The fallen man's dark wet head struggled to rise from the prison of water.

Malcolm sat upright in his bunk on _Enterprise_, gasping for breath and reaching for his throat, which was thankfully intact. The terror hung around him, so he hit the small light that hung near his bed, driving the shadows away and proving to his disbelieving mind that the dark men were not hiding in plain sight in his quarters. When the trembling had subsided, he got up and went to the bathroom to splash cool water on his face, relishing the feeling of nervous sweat rinsing away, and dreading the too familiar feeling of water dripping in his hair and his eyes.

He leaned on the sink and took in several deep breaths. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered if Trip and the others were right. Had he been acting differently since he came back from Earth? The altercation in the bar had shocked him to the core; he hadn't believed it was possible for anybody to dislike the friendly Denobulan. To despise a man because of his species went against every civility he'd tried to live his life by. The security that arrived had not caught the men who fought with the 'Fleeters, but Malcolm heard that this wasn't the first dispute that had been instigated by xenophobes. It had hurt him when Phlox had stiffly left Earth and spent the rest of his leave on the ship.

Several days later, he'd gone to the funeral of his friend. There in the cool, over-bright lights of his bathroom he remembered the faceless man he'd seen. Well, the man had a face, but he'd been too far away to recognize. There was something familiar about his stance, his size, but Malcolm couldn't place it. It was at that moment, however, that a tight kernel of fear had begun to grow deep in his gut. That was the moment when Malcolm started sleeping with a phase pistol under his pillow again. That was the moment when he had stopped going places by himself, making sure to be surrounded by people when he was on a planet's surface. That was the moment Malcolm started expecting the worst.

That was the moment he started to distrust the doctor, even if he hadn't met her until two months after. New people made him nervous. People who walked with their heads down made him reach for his pistol. That was the moment when he stopped feeling safe.

Years ago, Malcolm had made a choice that seemed like the right one at the time. It had been difficult to untangle himself from the clutches of those that kept him, but he'd managed to do it. All of a sudden he was seeing phantoms in every corner and jumping at the slightest noise, worried about being dragged back in.

A chill made him shudder and he left the bathroom to the relief of the semi-dark room. Hesitantly, he dug into his cupboard, in the small metal box he kept at the back under a pile of things. He couldn't get rid of it, but he could hardly bear to keep it either. Unlocking the box, he peered inside. There was a badge there, although the insignia was no longer pertinent. A lock of brown hair rested along the edge, tied together with peach colored ribbon. A chunk of glassy rock in shades of umber and amethyst clunked around, but it wasn't any of these things that he sought.

Underneath it all, wrapped in burgundy silk, encased in a hard smooth leather sheath lay a gleaming silver blade, intricately carved in the image of a large black raven. The handle was wrapped in black leather and the whole thing could fit in the palm of one's hand. It had been his most constant companion once.

Looking at it made him feel sick. He covered it with the other items and locked the box and shoved it to the darkest corner of his cupboard, trying to forget that he ever knew it existed.

He was making a mistake to forget. People who did not remember their past were only doomed to repeat it; wasn't that the old adage? He didn't know if that applied to people who had committed such terrible atrocities that to remember them would probably drive him crazy.

In spite of the late hour, or rather early hour, he noted as he checked his clock, he decided to go to the gym. Donning shorts and a tee shirt he made his way through the nearly empty halls and went for a very long run on the treadmill. Whoever thought it was impossible to outrun their demons obviously had never been on a starship. You could go very far away from trouble at warp five.

Unfortunately, part of his trouble was coming back. She would arrive in the next couple of days and he was going to have to apologize for terrorizing her. It's not like she was a spy planted on _Enterprise_ to report on his activities. The thought amused him. If she was a spy, she was lousy at her job. Everybody was aware of her presence. She didn't blend in.

He could probably teach her a thing or two about stealth. He amused himself by planning covert training sessions in his head, grinning when he thought of her reaction when he would refuse her weepy pleas for a coffee break. By the time he was tired enough to stop running, he was in a much better mood than he'd been in for a while.

* * *

"It's beautiful here," Bethany noted as they wandered slowly through the rural beauty. Grasses bowed in the gentle breeze, trees waved at them with their leafy branches and in the distance one or two houses could be seen. A dog barked although it remained out of sight.

Andie merely trudged beside her, a faraway look in her eyes.

"I could probably live here. San Francisco seems too loud, too busy for me." The alien peeked at the other.

Her companion grunted softly in acknowledgment.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, Doctor," Bethany reprimanded softly.

Andie jerked her head at the sound of her title. "Sorry, you liked the view?" she tried to focus.

Bethany grinned. "If you're gonna drag me all the way out here, the least you could do is pay attention when I'm rustlin' up some real estate."

Andie chuckled. "It's quiet here," she stated approvingly. She noted the censure in her new friend's eyes. "I've just got something on my mind."

"Obviously." They started walking again. "Anything in particular?"

Andie considered her words carefully. "There's somebody on the ship that I don't like. I've received some information that makes me think I may have treated them unfairly. I guess I'll have to make amends."

"Why don't you get along?"

"I think it's because I have difficulty making friends."

A giggle flew out of the mouth of a woman who had been locked up yesterday. "I don't believe that's true," she laughed.

"I met Mags and Colt in med school. It was a simpler time then. Most of the people I know now are people I meet at work," Andie tried to explain. "I don't have many female friends either."

"Why's that?"

"I think it's because I have a habit of punching people." That rueful smile crept over her features.

"I'm glad you left that portion out of our relationship," Bethany mused. "Why don't you get along with this particular person though?"

"He's a stickler for rules, and I think so many rules are kind of lame," Her voice trailed off.

"Why do you think the rules are lame?" Her expression indicated that Andie should continue.

"Starfleet has some difficult regulations. You're expected to follow a commander without question, but if you don't question his actions, you may be held accountable for the actions he's commanded you to take." She pursed her lips. "Freedom of choice in encouraged in some instances but not in others. For example, I can write a letter and receive special privilege to wear a different uniform. I'm not expected to follow blindly there." She frowned. Uniforms were the least of her confusion but she wasn't sure how much information Bethany needed to have.

"I guess if you want to be friends then you should try and respect the things this other person holds dear," Bethany decided. "You have to be part of their life to understand them."

Andie considered that. "By remaining on the outside, I'm not really participating in that world," she mused.

Bethany considered that. "It's hard to understand their world when you're on the outside looking in." She tried not to compare her own situation to Andie's, when she really didn't understand it.

Andie snorted. "That sounds like something my father would say."

"Is he a smart man?" Bethany asked, not really fishing for compliments but curious about the lives of others.

"He's a doctor," Andie answered vaguely.

"Well then maybe you should listen to him," Bethany told her. "Doctors are pretty smart."

A wry smile touched her mouth. "I'm a doctor, you know," she reminded her new friend.

"Well, they can't all be geniuses," Bethany teased.

Both women laughed softly. Checking the time, Andie mentioned that they should be getting back.

"Your friends will be worried about you," she told her. "They shouldn't be. You're pretty smart yourself."

"I do all right," Bethany agreed.

They headed back to the house where they had dined and made preparations to leave.


	32. Chapter 32

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

On Monday morning, Admiral Gardiner found the doctor drinking coffee in the cafeteria and reading a data pad.

"I don't know how you do it," he grunted as he took a chair out of the direct morning sunlight. "Stay up for three days and then head back to work."

"Things to do," she murmured absently. "No time to sleep." The main doors slid open and her face turned to look at the newcomer. She dropped her gaze back to the data pad.

"You've been busy," he commented, dropping his own pad on the table in front of her. She glanced down and had the grace to look a little guilty at the information on the first page.

"I thought we'd be discussing the space stations," he grumbled. "Instead I find you're breaking people out of the security wing and taking them for breakfast."

"First of all, that picture is of me breaking her in! Second, it was only restricted access, not maximum security! And third, I put her back! Besides the space stations aren't that big a problem," she answered with a shrug, filling her mug from a thermos at the table.

Gardiner ignored the first part for the moment. "How do you think we're going to get all that material to the sites we've determined?"

"Make a deal with the ECA." His blank look caused her qualify. "The Earth Cargo Association," she prompted him. "Tell the freighters that you'll upgrade their engines and weapons if they agree to run freight exclusively for Starfleet for a period of time."

"You think the freight monkeys would know how to handle a multi-warp engine?" he asked, mulling the possibilities.

"They would have to qualify for service," she told him as though he was slow. "Put them through the engineering portion of Starfleet training. Require a skeleton staff of Starfleet personnel for the duration of their service contract. At the end of their contracts, offer some perk for the boomers, like priority entrance to the full training program, or assignments on space stations or something. Maybe it's as simple as offering more protection from bandits in the sky. You're going to need them before this is over. Make it worth their while." Her head jerked toward the main doors as they opened and she looked hopeful. A couple of men entered and covered her inattention by sipping her coffee and picking up her padd again.

"What did you think of our guests?" he asked quietly, bringing the conversation back to the most recent hijinks. Fortunately it was early that the crowds hadn't yet begun to fill the room.

"You've got the Skags locked up and you have no right to do that," she told him sternly. "You need to get them out of there. Take them for structured tours of the city; let them know what they're signing up for. If you ask me, you ought to expose them to as much of humanity as you can, and then offer them a chance to go home."

"Home?" Gardiner sputtered. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get them here?"

"Take them home," she ordered. "Spend a week in orbit. Give them the chance to tell the others everything. Then allow anyone else who wants to come to Earth to come back, only this time, there won't be a grace period. I'd recommend a period of six weeks in detention, then assign them a liaison to look after their interests, whether social or political or occupational. The ones who come back, come back to stay."

"You really think exposure to more aliens is what the world needs?" Gardiner asked resignedly.

"I don't think being ashamed of their alien heritage is the way to make the world better." She glanced up as the door swung open. A dark-skinned woman entered and Andie looked down. "I'm not sure I know what I mean. I'm tired."

"Are you expecting someone?" he asked.

"Nope," she lied, sipping her coffee.

"You know, I'm an Admiral. I could probably find the person you're looking for." His bemused expression took in her tense features.

"That's okay," she told him firmly. "I'm not looking for anybody."

He wasn't easily fooled. "I'm sure he'll be along shortly. It's still early." Gardiner sipped his coffee. It was too damn early in his opinion.

"Excuse me? He who?" she queried, puzzlement putting her full attention on the white haired man.

"That MACO you're traveling with; I'm sure he'll be here soon." Gardiner shifted his weight to pull a data disk from his pocket, not realizing that he had assumed incorrectly. "Which reminds me, this is that information you asked for."

Slipping the disk into her pad, she perused the title of the documents included and nodded. "Thanks. This should make things a little easier." She slipped it into her pocket. While she was bent down, she offered a piece of sausage from her breakfast to the occupant of the carrier that rested at her feet. Josephine sniffed it then returned to the rear of her carton to huddle in a ball and stare suspiciously at the world.

"You don't have to go back," Gardiner hinted. "We could find work for you closer to home."

"I like the starship," she told him in a tone that didn't encourage discussion.

"If you like it so much, then why do I keep getting emergency calls in the middle of the night?"

"It takes time to acclimate to a new crew," Andie told him briskly. "I'm acclimated now. As long as security is no longer a problem?" She looked askance at the old man.

"It's taken care of," he grumbled. "Anything else we need to discuss?"

Ensign O'Reilly appeared at just that moment, setting a fresh cup of coffee on the table in front of the mug she'd just finished.

Andie turned to Gardiner. "I love him! Love! Him!" She sipped deeply from her fresh cup and sighed exaggeratedly.

Gardiner raised an eyebrow. "You've never loved any of my interns," he reminded her.

"They were useless. He's not. Where's my stuff?" she asked the young man.

"It's all waiting for you on the loading dock," he told her, handing over yet another pad to join the pile already on the table. "It's being processed as we speak. Here's that report you requested, Admiral."

"Love him," she repeated decisively. "I'm totally going to have his babies later."

"Oh, gee, ma'am!" O'Reilly shifted uncomfortably and blushed.

She frowned as though deep in thought. "He doesn't have a sense of humor," she noted. "That may revoke my undying affection. I guess I don't like him at all." She wrinkled her nose at the admiral to show she was joking while O'Reilly tried to convince her that he had a perfectly good sense of humor so he wouldn't be dismissed from his post.

"Right," the old man nodded in amusement. He made a mental note to do something nice for O'Reilly as soon as they got the doctor under way. Gardiner made sure to pick up the report that would detail everything Andie did while she was here. He knew it was going to take a while to read it all. It always did.

* * *

At the appropriate hour the threesome made their way to the central hub to catch a shuttle to the Vulcan ship that was going to return the passengers to _Enterprise_. Sergeant Chang arrived just as they did, and saluted the Admiral, who returned the gesture.

"You are back in protective custody," Gardiner reminded Andie. "It's up to you to get out of it."

She grinned slyly.

"Let me rephrase that," he corrected himself. "It's up to you to convince the captain to release you."

Andie pretended to pout. "The first plan was more fun." She winked at Chang.

Gardiner placed a heavy hand on the man's shoulder and walked a few feet away, talking in Chang's ear. Andie watched them go while chewing on her lip, until she was startled out of her survey by a hand on her shoulder.

Whirling around, she found a young man standing behind her, looking sweaty. "Dr. Magnum asked me to give this to you," he said, letting relief wash over his features when she took the data disk from his hand. "May I take your bags?" Without waiting for an answer, he scooped up her duffel and the cat case and stowed them carefully on the shuttle, then disappeared into the crowd.

"Who was that guy?" she asked Gardiner as he returned from his brief powwow with Chang.

"What guy?" Gardiner looked around.

The young man was gone, lost in the bustling loading area.

"Never mind," she sighed. "I just wanted to thank him for loading my bags." Actually she wanted to know why Mags would send someone else to talk to her, but although it was an unusual occurrence, it was not the first time it had happened. People called him paranoid. Andie called him cautious.

She smiled at Chang and they boarded the shuttle together.

* * *

Three days later, Trip met Andie and Daniel at the transporter pad wearing a shirt with a print so loud Andie draped a hand over her eyes to shield them from the glare. He made a face and reached out a hand to take her luggage. She handed over her duffel, but maintained the cat case.

"How was your trip?" the commander asked her while nodding a greeting at Chang.

"Lots of meetings," Andie sighed.

Trip noticed the smooth elegance of the silk suit, so different from her customarily offensive tee shirts or loose scrubs. "I hope you made time for a little bit of fun?" he teased.

Andie smiled serenely. "I had dinner with some friends."

Trip started down the corridor to her quarters but Andie turned back. The transporter lit up again and four crates took her place on the receptor pads. She nodded at the crewman standing by. "The two on the bottom go to the greenhouse; the two on top go in my quarters, please."

"I see you did some shopping," Trip remarked.

"I picked up a few things," she demurred.

Chang rolled his eyes in amusement. He shared a look with Tucker that clearly indicated women spent too much time shopping.

The trio walked on to the turbo-lift. "I'm starved. Is the Mess Hall still open?" she asked.

"She slept through the last two meals," Chang noted out loud.

Andie scowled. "Meetings are exhausting," she told him. "How did you fare without me?" she inquired of Trip, turning the subject away from her planetary doings.

"Well," he pretended to ponder the question, rubbing his chin with his hand. "Malcolm and Travis played about a thousand games of chess, even though Travis didn't win once. We investigated a Klingon garbage scow."

They stepped into the lift and Chang pressed the button for B Deck.

"Oh!" Trip snapped his fingers as though he'd just remembered something. "And I died!"

Andie's chuckle slid off her face when she realized he wasn't kidding. Her finger calmly punched the button to stop the lift and pressed another button. They changed directions.

"I got better!" Trip joked, more worried about her complete control than he would have been if she'd screamed at him.

The doors slid open. "With all due respect, Commander, you are not fit to make that judgment," she informed him coolly, stepping out on E Deck. Her frown remained.

"Sir?" Chang reached out for Andie's bag that Trip still carried. "I'll drop this off at your quarters and then I'll see you both at dinner," he told them, then pushed the button that would resume course to crew quarters.

Andie moved quickly down the hall and swept through the doors with Trip hurrying after her, despite his much longer legs.

"I leave for a few days and you kill the Chief Engineer?" she shrieked at the empty room.

Phlox entered from a door on the side with a padd already in his hand. "Doctor, it's good to see you! How was your trip?"

She glared at him before yanking the report out of his hand, correctly deducing that it was the most recent medical log of the incident in question. Phlox hovered patiently nearby, offering a scientific breakdown, while Trip refuted everything that sounded dangerous. Andie skimmed the pages as she took it all in.

"Hoshi?" she fired the question at both males, finding the name in the log.

"She's fine," Phlox assured her. "She's resting in her quarters. She'll be fine."

Andie finished reading. "This log makes no sense!" she told Phlox, waving it under his nose. "Silicon viruses don't just go away! Hoshi recovered without any treatment at all! Did Engineering check out the imaging chamber in case there's a radiation leak?" The questions flew out of her mouth.

"Rostov will be here in the morning," Trip assured her. "I'm fine. We're all fine."

"This report is inconclusive," she decided, thumping it down on a desk. "Are you really comfortable suggesting that they were healed by miracle?" She eyed the other doctor skeptically.

"That would seem to be as logical a reason as any other," Phlox answered defensively.

"Logic has nothing to do with miracles." Andie studied his haggard face for a long moment before handing his report back to him. "I know you did your best," she told him softly as her way of apologizing for the tantrum. "I'm glad everyone's all right. I'd like a copy of that report?"

"One has already been sent to your terminal."

"Thank you," she offered an apologetic smile. "By the way, I brought back something from Earth that I thought you might enjoy," she told the Denobulan. "Would you care to meet me here tomorrow evening?"

"I would like that very much," Phlox agreed fervently.

* * *

Trip led Andie away from Sickbay with relief. They stopped in her quarters long enough for her to change into jeans and a tee shirt, and release Josephine from her case. Napoleon sniffed her carefully and turned his back when Andie tried to pet him. Sighing, she left for the Mess Hall as her stomach began to growl.

She refused to speak to Trip the entire way.

"What did you bring Phlox?" He nudged her with an index finger.

Silence.

"Did you bring him any egg drop soup? He loves that." He nudged her again.

More silence, although she slapped at his hand.

"Aren't you going to tell me what you brought him?" Trip pestered her in a way that reminded him of the way he used to tease his sister Lizzie. The thought of the young woman he'd lost wasn't as painful as it used to be and he found he could think of her with laughter rather than remorse or anger.

"I brought him smokes and skin mags," Andie grumbled.

Trip looked at out of the corner of his eye. "Fine. Don't tell me." He noted the way she tried not to smile and knew he had been forgiven for dying while she was gone. She may be hot-tempered but she didn't hold a grudge.

They discovered the Mess Hall was filled with almost every crewmember not currently on duty.

"Aw! A welcome home party! You shouldn't have!" She smiled and squeezed Trip's hand and he secretly rolled his eyes at her sudden amiability.

He also caught T'Pol's disapproving glance from across the room and shifted his weight nervously. His inner voice gave a sound lecture on Vulcan-Human Relations, ending with "And she was the one who chose to step back and find herself!" Sticking out his chin in a mulish expression, he decided he could express friendly affection with the tactile doctor without shame if he chose.

Dropping her hand, he started to direct her to a long table set up next to the window.

Beaming she looked around. "All I need now is a..."

A steaming mug appeared under her nose, and she turned the full force of her contented smile to the server.

"Henry, your timing is impeccable." She leaned forward and kissed the ensign's cheek, unmindful of the way he blushed and touched the spot after she moved further into the room sipping the steaming beverage.

Malcolm appeared in front of her. "You're aboard less than fifteen minutes and you've forgotten everything you've learned about personal boundaries," he smirked. "You sweep through the room like a viral infection."

Andie tilted her head to one side. "I would have expected a reference to the mask of the Red Death," she countered saucily. "I see you're still far too interested in how I spend my time without you?"

"Your shirt is offensive. Your uniform would have been more appropriate."

"There's nothing wrong with my shirt." Against a pink background, a cartoon bunny wearing a black leather coat and smoking declared that it was a _Bad Hare Day_. "You wouldn't think so if you had one of your own."

"Can't you two get along for five seconds?" Trip burst out.

Both sets of gray-blue eyes peered at the commander curiously.

"I was getting along," Andie defended. "I didn't threaten to put my foot anywhere near his ass! Not like he wouldn't enjoy that!" she added mischievously.

"I haven't thrown her in the brig!" Malcolm cried. "Not yet anyway!"

They glanced at each other, dark humor twinkling in their eyes.

"The night is young," Andie agreed amiably.

"Maybe after dinner?" Malcolm suggested hopefully.

"I'd rather begin the fisticuffs much later than that," she pretended to consider. "I have a bit of space lag."

"A night in the brig would help with that," Malcolm offered. "You'd get a lot of rest."

"You two are incorrigible," Trip declared grumpily.

He escorted the doctor away from the armory officer and settled her at the long table that had been created by shoving several smaller tables together. It was next to the window and already crowded with people that waved and greeted her cheerily.

"Don't go anywhere, Lieutenant!" Andie called over her shoulder. "I brought you a present!"

That statement stopped him cold. He could hardly believe that she'd brought him something. Malcolm decided it must be something unpleasant. He wondered if he should call in extra security reinforcements to receive it, as he picked a seat at the end of the long table and watched silently from the outskirts.

Chef and the galley staff swept in with a flourish to deposit trays of finger foods at the end of the line, which were then handed down as each person picked their favorites off the platter. It was a very satisfactory cocktail party. Andie sat at the center of it all, calling out greetings and laughing loudly whenever someone told a joke. Malcolm watched from the end of the table. In contrast to her noisy cheeriness, there were shadows under her eyes and a distant look in her face. It was similar to the expression she wore at that first gathering aboard _Enterprise_; gracious but wishing she were elsewhere.

Looking around it was clear that nobody else saw the weariness that tinged her appearance. He sipped his tea thoughtfully.

"So what did you do on Earth for two days?" Travis asked.

"I attended lots of meetings," she told him, in a tone that conveyed the boredom that ensued.

"Really?" Trip asked her, barely holding back a chuckle.

"Well, I also had dinner with a couple of friends," she added serenely.

Trip joked. "We may be far from Earth, but we still get the news feed, you know!"

Andie's smile froze. "In that case, I deny everything. It wasn't me. It was my evil twin!" she grinned. It had taken a fraction of a second to realize that he hadn't heard anything at all. He was just teasing her. She relaxed a little.

"So you _did_ get in some trouble?" Trip chuckled.

"No," she denied with a grin. "It was no trouble at all!" She winked. "And you can't prove anything!"

"Presents!" somebody shouted.

Two crewmen were sent to retrieve the two cases she'd left in her cabin, and when they returned she consulted a padd as she pulled out items that had been requested. Hess received a jar of face cream, Rostov picked up his baseball cards, and Chef picked up his new copper sauté pan. Other crewmembers received their books or movies or trinkets and took them off to their quarters until only the senior staff remained in the room. The galley crew tidied up, refreshing everyone's beverage and leaving only a platter of cookies before turning in for the night.

"Travis!" Andie called and the young man perked up. She tossed a box, a small pouch and a wad of cloth at him. The box contained lollipops.

"Don't eat 'em on duty," the captain cautioned to the chuckles of those that remembered the last time he'd choked on a sucker stick.

The pouch contained six silver packages. "Shortcake nutri-packs!" he cried excitedly. "Tastes better than the real thing!" he insisted to the disbelieving group. Hoshi and Andie exchanged secret smiles.

The wad of cloth turned out to be a blue tee shirt that read: _Navigators do it in the right direction._ He laughed and looked up to find Andie chuckling as she winked at him.

"Hoshi!" She handed over two books, a box and tee shirt.

The flat rectangular box contained chocolates and the tee shirt read: _Cunning Linguist._ Hoshi blushed and giggled. "I'll wear it to the next Ladies' Night!" She sobered slightly. "I only asked for the one pound box of chocolate though."

"You got the bonus package," Andie assured her. "You're worth every ounce."

Andie passed a carved wood box and a handful of data chips full of ship upgrades to T'Pol along with a white tee.

"The presentation of gifts is unnecessary," T'Pol told her.

"I never asked if they were necessary," Andie rebutted. "It pleases me to give them. It would be rude of you to refuse them."

Acquiescing, T'Pol opened the box to find it packed with unscented candles intended for meditation. She nodded her thanks. Reluctantly she picked up the shirt. When it unfolded, the others saw her face relax.

Jon eyed her curiously. "What's it say?" he prompted.

T'Pol turned it around to show off the lettering: **_# 1_** in fat green letters.

"You know, because you're the captain's number one commander?" Andie offered helpfully.

The Vulcan almost smiled.

Tipping her hand back into the crate Andie started piling stuff on Trip's lap. "Here's your camera. My repair guy said you got muck in the gears, but he cleaned it and you should be okay. You need a shirt," she dropped a blue shirt in his lap that declared: _Engineers do it at warp speed._ A thin case landed on his lap filled with blank paper and charcoal sticks.

"I don't draw," he told her, feeling overwhelmed by her generosity.

"I've never known an engineer who didn't doodle the next big idea," she told him. "You'll learn to draw." Pausing her frantic digging, she looked at him. "You know, I was sitting in the cafeteria on Sunday when I met a handsome engineer. He took me home with him."

"Do we really need to hear about your tawdry conquests?" Malcolm sighed exaggeratedly.

Andie glared at him and went on. "I met his mom. She made dinner." With that last statement, she laid a container on Trip's lap.

Curious he peeked inside. The smell of sugar and spices drifted up, causing Trip to close his eyes and inhale deeply. Suddenly he realized the scent was familiar and his eyes flew open. "You met my mom?"

"Thor said he recognized me from pictures you sent. We talked while he installed the information hard drive on _Columbia_."

Trip looked surprised. "You met my brother?" Followed by, "He told you his real name?"

"You really get around!" Malcolm smirked.

Andie sent a dirty look at Malcolm and his dirty mind. "Your mom made me promise not to eat even a crumb from that pecan pie so enjoy my suffering," she told Trip.

"I didn't know your brother was working on _Columbia_," Travis broke in.

"He's an information specialist," Trip explained. "He goes where information is needed. He uploads the databases that we all use, but he only gets called into Starfleet when their own specialists can't figure out what's wrong."

She tossed a shirt at Archer followed by a heavy bottle. He checked the label on the bottle first. "Eighteen years old?" he grinned.

"Consider it a peace offering," she shrugged.

He held up a green tee. "_Vulcan Love Slave_," he read, closing his eyes as most of the table giggled nervously.

"Ha ha! You should have given that to...OW! OW!" Travis leaned down and rubbed both shins, glaring at Hoshi and Malcolm seated on either side. "What'd I do?"

Unmindful of the outburst, Andie caught the captain's eye. "If you're not busy, breakfast tomorrow? 0700?"

"It's customary to wait until the captain invites you," Archer eyed her.

She waited expectantly.

"Fine! I'll see you there."

Everyone started to rise.

"Reed!" A gray tee shirt flew through the air. "_Armory Officers do it at maximum yield_," he read obediently. "It's crass and offensive."

"I knew you'd love it," she grinned, wrinkling her nose in delight.

Malcolm almost got knocked in the head by the hard bound book she spiraled across the table like a frisbee.

"What's that?" Trip asked.

"History of guns and ammo," Andie lied flawlessly.

Reed opened the cover and froze. It was a book of poetry. He'd never told anyone he liked to read poetry; how had she known? He snapped it shut quickly.

"Now I know what to do when I can't sleep," Trip chuckled. "I'll come over and borrow your book." He looked at Malcolm when his friend didn't respond. "Malcolm?"

"Thank you, Doctor," the dark haired man replied. He rose suddenly and disappeared before anyone else could speak to him.

Everyone looked surprised. "You sure know how to clear a room, Doc," Trip told Andie as she dropped the padd back in the empty crate.

"I should have given him gifts ages ago," she mused with a grin. "Hell, I'll give him something every day I'm aboard if it makes him leave the room that fast!" She giggled impishly. The effect was ruined by her yawn.

"Let's get you into bed," Trip announced, standing up and gathering his loot.

"Yes. Let's." Andie winked saucily at the commander who blushed.

"I meant..." he started to explain. It only made her chuckle.

"I know what you meant," she grinned. "I'm tired, not obtuse."

"It has been a long day," T'Pol announced, rising and collecting her parcels.

The rest took their cue from her. There were wishes for pleasant dreams all around as the senior staff broke up for the remainder of the evening.


	33. Chapter 33

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 33

* * *

Trip walked Andie back to her quarters.

"So did you have fun on Earth?" he asked as they turned a corner.

"Yeah, I did," she told him. They walked for a moment before she added. "Your mom is really great."

"I already knew that, but what makes you say so," he smiled thinking of the blond woman who raised four kids with seemingly little effort.

"Your brother showed up for Sunday dinner with a couple of strange women and she didn't even bat an eye, just started pushing people around the table to make room."

"She ask about your family?"

"Oh, yeah!" The exaggerated way she said it made Trip laugh. His mom would have made a great interrogator.

"She try and find you a man?"

"You know, the pharmacist's son is apparently quite a catch," she told him dryly.

He chuckled. "She's been trying to find Skip a nice girl ever since he was thirteen!"

They shared a pleasant moment while Andie tapped in her security code and opened the portal.

"Did you see any of _your_ family while you were there?" he wondered out loud.

A shadow crossed her face as she set her empty case in the corner, and moved automatically to stroke the two small heads that looked up at her arrival. "No," she answered softly. "Dad's not around right now, and Mom..." She stood in shadow and he could barely make out her features in the dim light. "Sometimes my mom meets me in the cafeteria before I leave Earth, and we have breakfast together. She couldn't make it this time, I guess."

Trip grew up with family crawling out of the woodwork. It seemed so strange not to have someone waiting in port. "I'm sorry," he told her, wondering if an apology was the right move.

"It's good to come home to family." She cuddled with Leon who squirmed away from her. She smiled faintly and forced a cheerier note into her tone. "Your house is great. It's so big."

"It's not the same house," he answered automatically. "The other one was in...Florida."

"Oh." There really wasn't anything more to be said. "You've got a big backyard."

"Mom always thought that kids needed space to grow, like a garden." he laughed. "She says the heat helps everything thrive." He felt the grin take over his face. "That's why we lived in Florida. Lots of sun."

Andie chuckled. "She made a good choice."

"I can't believe Eddie let you call him Thor," Trip mused, reluctant to go back to his room and leave behind these small reminders of the family he missed. He kicked himself for refusing to go and see them before when they first returned from the Expanse. He could have spent so much time with them, instead of attending a wedding he didn't want to witness.

"I can't believe he wants to be called Eddie," she told him. "I'd totally go with Thor. It's authoritative." She chuckled at her own pun.

"My mom used to pass this antique store with a collection of china plates commemorating the royalty of England. Dad liked literary names. Hence, Elizabeth Jane, Charles Ernest, Thoreau Edward, and Agatha Mary ," he recited his siblings names with ease.

"Gee, I was just named after my dad," she smirked. "You're royalty!" Affecting a mincing pose, she tipped over in a deep bow. "Your Highness!"

"Cut it out!" he pulled a pillow off her bed and threw it at her. She laughed and threw it back at him.

He caught it again and put it on the bunk. Josie curled up next to his leg so he stroked her soft fur for a while. "So what kind of trouble did you get into?" he asked, remembering that split second at dinner when she froze like a deer in the headlights.

"No trouble at all," she told him again lightly, hanging up her clothes and tossing others in the laundry.

"I saw that look you had in the Mess Hall. You did get up to something. What was it?" he teased.

"It was just a little misunderstanding with a diner manager," she told him sardonically.

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that the diner owner was clearly in violation of the law," she replied.

_That didn't really tell him anything, did it?_ he thought. "Which law?" he asked as he leaned back against the wall, hiding his impatience with her reluctant answers.

"The laws of human decency," she answered, again as vaguely as before.

"That's all you're gonna tell me?" he asked, starting to get frustrated. It was easier to pull teeth than to get any information out of her.

Reluctantly she forced her mouth to answer. "The diner refused to serve some patrons, simply because they were born on another planet." That phrase would never cease sounding ugly.

Trip stroked Josie's chin. "You picked a fight in a diner to defend aliens," he repeated, trying to wrap his head around it. Sometimes he wondered why they ever bothered to save Earth in the first place. "Malcolm and Travis got into an altercation in a bar to save Phlox for the same reason."

A steely glint hardened her features, but with his attention on Josephine he didn't see it. "Did they ever get a name?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound curious. She was inordinately fond of the gregarious doctor and the idea that anyone wouldn't want him around made her head steam.

"Nope," he sighed. Jo curled up on his lap. "They exchanged punches but the other guys left before law enforcement showed up."

"Hmm," she muttered, the hard look fading as she puttered around, tucking clothes into drawers or hanging garments in her locker. "I never would have thought Reed had it in him."

Trip glanced up sharply. "He's a pretty good guy. It's something you'd figure out if you weren't so hell bent on putting the screws to him."

"That's what people keep telling me," she answered, standing at the window where Leon had stretched out. He still wouldn't look at her, but she ran her fingers through his fur idly. "Yet he keeps chasing me around the ship. I just want to be left alone to do my work and move on."

Thoughtfully she glanced back at Trip. "You get caught in the middle of our little battles, don't you?"

He was surprised to find she was right. "Yeah, sometimes."

"I'm sorry about that."

Now Trip felt he had a duty to explain his friend's bizarre reaction. "He's been on edge lately. Someone he cares about just entered Starfleet and he's worried they can't cut it."

"I know," she acknowledged, still watching the stars float past.

Trip was startled at that. Malcolm proclaimed to hate this woman, but he told her something private before he told Trip? When would he have told her? The thoughts swirled around in his head. "You know?" he repeated.

"He's got something of a savior complex, doesn't he?" she mused.

"He's not the only one," Trip looked at her pointedly.

She grinned widely at that. Turning away from the window, she looked at the time on her clock. "Want a drink?" It was late, but not that late, she decided.

"Not tonight," he declined. "I've got to get up early in the morning." He gently pushed the sleepy gray kitty to the side and stood.

"G'night, Trip," she watched him carefully, searching for signs of his recent illness in his face, wondering how fast he'd run if she pulled out a medical scanner.

"Night, Andie." He squirmed under her intense gaze. "Want to have breakfast tomorrow?"

"Breakfast with the captain," she said by way of refusal.

"Dinner, then?"

"Dinner with Phlox tomorrow," she smiled. "Some other time?"

"Sure," he agreed. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. "It's good to have you back, kiddo."

At the door he turned back. "Hey, you got a tour of the ship. How do _Columbia's_ engines look?"

"Like little bits and pieces of scrap metal left around the room," she told him, laughing as his face fell. "I don't think they've found the right chief engineer yet."

Pretending to clutch his chest, Trip fretted, "Don't tell me that! I might have to transfer over and set 'em straight!"

"They could probably use the help," she assured him. "Due to all the problems _Columbia's_ been having, several superstitious crewmembers have requested transfers in the last couple of weeks. They're a little shorthanded." She rolled her eyes at their silliness.

He smiled in agreement and left the room wondering about the rather extreme change in temperament of the volatile doctor. She must have caught hell from the Admiral, he decided, cringing on her behalf as he made his way to his quarters.

* * *

Reed had been hovering in the same corridor for about a quarter of an hour, wondering if it was awasted effort. If Trip planned to spend an extended amount of time in the doctor's quarters it would be pointless to wait in the corridor nearby.

His fingers slid over the smooth cover of the book Andie tossed to him after dinner. It was an old volume, one that had been well-maintained. The elegant script on the cover and the tissue thin parchment inside were both quality crafted items. The book itself made his chest clench, and he glanced up impatiently when he heard a door slide open. His quarry made idle chitchat with the engineer before they parted and Malcolm leaned his head against the wall and wondered what was wrong with him as he waited for the sound of footsteps to subside.

He was jumpy and restless and it couldn't be entirely related to the newest crewmember. He felt that way all the time, as if monsters were about to be discovered behind every moon. Reed had always been accused of being a little paranoid, but his usual habits were beginning to be more than he could handle.

Of course, his paranoia had kept most of them alive during the year they fought an unseen enemy. It seemed strange that after everything they'd been through, that his feelings hadn't returned to normal like everything else around him had.

A noise down the corridor jerked his head off the wall and he opened his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping very well lately, and it was odd that he'd nearly nodded off as he let his mind wander. It would be an uncomfortable conversation if he had to explain to the captain why he was sleeping upright in the wrong section of crew quarters, so he pushed his body upright and forced his feet down the hall to the door he'd been watching.

The buzzer chimed and in a moment the door slid open. "Changed your mind about that drink, didja?" Andie's smile faded a bit as she realized it wasn't the amiable engineer on the other side. "Lieutenant, what can I do for you?"

There was time to note that she was wearing a tank top and loose exercise pants before Malcolm dragged his eyes to hers. "You look like you're busy," he stammered. "I'll come back." He stepped backward.

"I'm not busy. What's on your mind?" She pulled the corners of her mouth into a smile that was polite if not welcoming.

"No, really, I shouldn't bother you this late at night," he backed further into the corridor.

Andie sighed. "If you don't come in, I'll spend all night wondering what you wanted and I'll be showing up outside your door in a few minutes! Get your butt in here!" Her tone was cranky.

Ducking his head slightly, he complied, stopping just far enough inside to allow the door to close behind him before leaning his weight back against it. He found he still couldn't meet her eyes, and was concerned to find he wasn't sure why.

"Must be something big," she commented with a raised eyebrow.

"It's about...this." He pulled the object from behind his back and held out the book with both hands.

"It's a book." Andie looked puzzled.

"It's a book of poetry," he countered. "I don't think it's appropriate."

"It's...a book," she reiterated slowly, not comprehending.

"Of romantic poetry!" He was glaring at her now. Her tone conveyed the impression that she thought him a bit dimwitted.

"There's a section on romantic love, but there's also a section devoted to love of nature, another on love of vocation, and more on love of country and deity." Her face relaxed into a more natural grin. "I think there's even a section at the back full of dirty limericks."

Reed sighed. "You shouldn't have bought such a gift for me." He continued to hold out the volume, although Andie showed no signs of accepting it from him.

Her face cleared. "Oh, well, I didn't buy it. Are we done?" She leaned forward to hit the button to open the door.

"You didn't buy it?" he repeated. "Then how did you...? You didn't...?"

"I didn't steal it, but thanks for the vote of confidence in my character." Now she was glaring at him. Heaving a deep breath, she stepped back and studied her bare feet. "Godfreid's attorney delivered the possessions he left to me in his will," she explained. "I don't care for poetry, but I noticed you had a couple of volumes in your room when I was bandaging your hand, and thought you would appreciate them more than me."

"Oh, I..." Malcolm studied the book in his hands as though he'd suddenly discovered it was written in a different language.

"He used to seduce girls by taking them out for a picnic and reading them poems until they swooned." Her smile softened at the memory. "Sometimes he'd practice reading them out loud to me to see what I thought."

"If it's sentimental to you, then you should keep it." Malcolm offered it to her.

"I really don't want it," she told him firmly but quietly. "You should keep it. I will never appreciate the content the way that you do, and books should be appreciated."

In the awkward moment that followed, Malcolm's eyes flickered to the shelf above her bunk. "You've got plenty of reading to keep you busy, I suppose," he noted, seeing quite a few books crowded on the narrow ledge.

"Hand-written journals of a scientific mind," she nodded. "I need to sort through them and see if there's anything worth transmitting to Starfleet Medical."

"You seem to keep busy," he noted, ignoring the fact that his desk was full of notes on the EM barrier he was still working hard to complete.

"Dad always told me I should be useful," she commented lightly. "He said the world was no place for lay-abouts."

Malcolm chuckled. His father would have approved of André's work ethic. Her head was still turned, looking at the journals that lined her shelf, but even in the low light in her quarters, Malcolm could see the remains of a scar that stood out on her bare shoulder.

"How did you hurt your arm?" he asked, unable to stop his hand from reaching out to touch the misshapen skin. It occurred to him that he'd never seen her without sleeves before. Well, he'd seen her in Sickbay while she'd been undressed, but he hadn't looked at her. That would have been perverse.

Shrugging her shoulder out of his reach, she grabbed a cardigan and pushed her arms into it. "It's nothing," she answered, trying hard to sound calm. "I had a tat which I later removed."

"Tat? Tattoo," he answered his own question. "What was it?" Inwardly he shuddered at the people who willfully abused their bodies and called it art.

"A horizontal eight," she answered reluctantly.

"With a line cutting through the center," Malcolm guessed, remembering the medallion she retrieved from Dr. Godfreid. "It has sentimental meaning?"

She studied him for a long moment, as though trying to see right through him. Shaking her head, she exhaled and replied. "It means there is no tomorrow. I was a bit of a nihilist in my youth."

Now Malcolm studied Andie. "Really? You seem so..." He searched for the right word. "Perky," he finished.

"Yeah, well, I found a mission to give my life meaning," she answered sardonically.

"Medicine," Malcolm guessed.

For one second she grew very still. That impish grin showed up again. "Actually I was going to say making _your_ life miserable, but medicine sounds much more altruistic." She took a step closer, which made Malcolm take a step back. "What gives your life meaning, Reed?"

"I like to maintain order and discipline," he answered quickly. For one moment he wondered if that's all he wanted to accomplish in life. The truth felt like a lie even as it came out of his mouth.

Her eyes, blue now from the influence of the navy sweater, twinkled warmly at him. "Discipline can be good," she teased. She drove him back another step by moving in closer, pleased at the result. All this talk about her personal habits was making her nervous.

"So can propriety," he interjected. "I've already lingered too long in your room, Doctor. I wanted to thank you again for the book." He held it up in a hand that was beginning to sweat. "It was very kind of you to think of me when handing out souvenirs to your friends."

Andie stopped stalking the nervous man. "I think we got off on the wrong foot, Lieutenant. I think we should start over." She stuck out a hand. "I'm Doctor Andie."

The armory officer played along. "I'm Lieutenant Malcolm Reed," he shook her hand lightly, feeling the play of muscles around the fine bones of her hand.

"It's a pleasure, Lieutenant Reed," she purred, stepping in closer. "Feel free to come check on my safety at any time."

Malcolm jerked his hand free and hit the button as he nearly fell out the door into the hall. "I'll be sure and do that, Doctor. It's my duty," he added.

"Good night!" she grinned widely, shutting the door in his flushed face. Reed was surprisingly easy to maneuver, she thought. Leaning her back against the door, she sighed heavily. She may have slept for three days, but she didn't think she fully recovered from her long weekend. She pulled off her clothes and tumbled into her bunk.

* * *

Out in the hallway, Malcolm stumbled around the corner and leaned his back on the bulkhead, drawing in a deep breath. It was entirely possible that he was imagining things, and she wasn't trying to seduce him. It just seemed to come out of nowhere. His head jerked up. She started cozying up to him when he started to inquire about her background. He frowned. Surely she didn't use her wiles to maneuver him out the door, did she?

Shaking his head, he rubbed his face with his hand. That thought indicated he was even more suspicious than he thought he was. She was just being friendly, and after their strained encounters since she arrived on the ship, it was a start to a more congenial association.

Down the hall a door opened. Malcolm turned to find Sergeant Chang hanging his head out of the portal and staring at him.

"I heard something in the corridor. I thought it might be you," Chang spoke quietly. He stepped out of his quarters and waved a hand at Malcolm to indicate that he should follow.

Puzzled the officer did as he was directed. Chang led them into the exercise room on this deck, containing a set of treadmills and dumbbells. It was meant for light workouts for only a few of the senior officers, while the full gym on F Deck contained space and equipment for a full workout for many crewmembers. At this late hour, the room was empty.

"I presume you were lingering in the corridor to hear my report." Chang was all business.

"Your report?" For a moment, Malcolm had no idea what he was talking about.

"My report on Dr. Brainerd's activities on Earth, sir."

Malcolm had forgotten he had given Chang the task of keeping tabs on Andie while on Earth. It all came flooding back to him now. He felt he didn't really need the information anymore, but it seemed ridiculous to ignore the details now that they were at his fingertips. "What did you discover?"

"Not much, sir," Chang stood at relaxed attention. "She spent most of the time on the trip to Earth speaking with the Erickson's, particularly the daughter. As soon as we landed on Earth, Admiral Gardiner delivered a two-day pass and sent me away."

"Gardiner gave you a pass?" Malcolm waited for Chang's nod. "Did Andie suggest it to him?"

"No, he made the suggestion and insisted I go."

"He insisted?"

"Yes, sir. He told me he was accustomed to Andie's antics and told me she would be under the protection of Starfleet Command."

"What was his attitude toward Dr. Brainerd?" Malcolm was curious about the hold she seemed to have.

"They appeared to have a close relationship, like Forrest and Archer. He took her hand, and she kissed his cheek."

_That might explain all those second chances they offered her._ Malcolm frowned. "You didn't see her for two days?"

"No, sir. But I contacted the Admiral's secretary who forwarded a list of Andie's obligations. She had at least a dozen meetings scheduled for Saturday alone, with back to back assignments on Sunday. There was no time to make mischief."

"What about the flight back to _Enterprise_?"

"She slept nearly all the way. She awoke twice for meals, but then she went back to sleep."

Malcolm paused to assimilate the information. "Thank you, Sergeant. That will be sufficient."

"Sir, there's one other thing you should know." Chang's posture snapped into a stiff military pose.

Malcolm paused expectantly.

"The Admiral stopped me before we boarded the shuttle home. He told me that he believed certain people to be unjustly persecuting Andie, and requested that I inform him should any of those people continue their unregulated interest in her." Chang couldn't bring himself to look at Malcolm, but watched a spot on the wall behind Reed's head.

"He wants you report anyone spying on the doctor?" Malcolm raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir, anyone at all. The Admiral was very specific." Chang carefully noted the elevated rank.

Once again the Admiral comes to her rescue, Reed thought. It seems that he was being forced to take Andie Brainerd at her word.

Pursing his lips, Malcolm nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant. That is all." He turned and left the room. He headed straight for his room and went to bed.


	34. Chapter 34

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 34

* * *

Andie slept fitfully, not nearly as tired as she wanted to be. Giving up, she rose early and dressed, heading for Sickbay for a quick look at the work she'd missed while she was gone.

Inside the double doors of the familiar laboratory, she found Liz Cutler on duty. The woman was standing in the middle of the room with her mouth slightly ajar, intent on something happening on the other side of the room. Her cheeks were pink with a rosy blush.

Standing just behind her, Andie followed her gaze. All she could see was a blue coverall buried inside the workings of the imaging chamber. The heavy fabric was pulled taut over a respectable set of muscles that curved into firm thighs.

"How's it going in there?" she called out, making both persons jump. Liz turned her guilty gaze to the doctor, while inside the medical equipment, a series of tame curses followed the thump of a head that met with an interior wall. "Tucker set you to work early," she added with satisfaction.

"It's fine, Doc," Michael Rostov poked his head out of the chamber, red-faced with the effort of crawling in such a tight space. "I can't find anything wrong with it. I was just about to put it all back together." He rubbed his aching head and threw a tool into the case.

Liz wasn't fast enough to hide her disappointment, and Andie smiled at young love.

"Rostov, honey," she cooed. "Would you mind going over it all again just one more time?" At his glum gaze, she smiled sweetly. "I spend a lot of time in Sickbay and I'd hate to contract radiation sickness if there's something wrong with the machine. I just want to be sure, you know?"

Exhaling deeply, Rostov tried not to look put out. "Sure, Doc," he agreed. "I'll go over it with a fine-toothed comb. Again." Rolling his head on his neck he prepared to re-enter the chamber.

"Have Liz take a look at that bump," Andie called out as his back turned. "I'd hate for you to suffer while you work."

"Sure, Doc," his voice was already muffled as his head disappeared into the hole.

"Try not to sniff his hair," Andie whispered to the blushing woman. "It's creepy."

"I'll do my best," Liz stuttered, pulling a medical scanner out of her pocket and moving across the room toward the object of her affection. The though of touching his thick black hair was making her hands shake, a motion undetected by the man intent on his work.

Chuckling quietly, Andie scooped up some reports and left the two alone.

* * *

Archer found Andie quite at home in the Captains Mess the next morning. She had a cup of coffee before her, and she was thumbing through at least three data pads while she waited for him. He checked the chronometer; it wasn't even oh-seven hundred yet. Porthos bounded ahead of him and greeted the doctor enthusiastically. The woman happily returned the affection.

"Am I late?" he joked, not enjoying the feeling that she had somehow got the better of him.

"Nope," she replied, making kissing noises at a wet nose. "I'm early. I got a lot of sleep on the return voyage and I'm raring to go." She smiled, raising her head slightly. "I may also be a little nervous. Gardiner threatened to kick my ass if I wasn't nicer to you." She sighed. "It's going to be a big task."

He tried not to smile. "I've never thought of myself as hard to get along with," he stated as he poured a cup of coffee.

She looked up from the pooch she was joyously tousling and smiled.

"You've never had to work with you," she told him, holding out her cup for a refill as well.

"This is how you are nicer to me?" he joked.

"I haven't had enough coffee. I'm not nice to anyone." She nuzzled the dog. "Am I, Porthos? No, I'm not nice to anyone. Who needs tummy rubbins?" Porthos rolled over obediently for the offered rubbins, and Archer tried not to cringe at the baby-talk directed at his dog.

He snorted. "Fair enough." The steward entered and brought two plates. Archer waited until he left to begin talking to Andie. Of course, the steward had to exclaim over her return, wanting a brief synopsis of her leave, and finally Archer had to clear his throat to make the man go back to the galley. Porthos followed, knowing his breakfast waited next to the big stove.

"How'd your leave go?" he asked, digging in with relish.

"Fine," she answered. "Had a meeting with the morgue attendants about the bodies, met with Mrs. Burrows, who is just as wretched in person as you might expect." The disdain in her voice was palpable. "Met with the committee regarding the Ericksons, met with the Command Council regarding my discipline," she grinned, ticking off meetings on her fingers. "Had a meeting with the greenhouse project leaders, took another one with legal and accounting." She sipped her coffee. "And that was just Saturday."

"Wow," Archer breathed. "You were busy." He scooped up a mouthful of fried potatoes.

"I get around," she nodded agreeably. Before digging in to the eggs benedict before her, Andie handed over a data disk. "Gardiner said they discovered a glitch in the transmission of my résumé, so he sent an untainted copy."

Accepting the disk, Archer frowned. "I'm sure Hoshi would have mentioned if there was a glitch in the communications array."

"You're welcome to call Starfleet Command and accuse them of being liars if you wish, Captain," Andie smiled sweetly. It was obvious to both of them that there was no glitch. She shoved a handheld pad closer to his elbow. "I thought you might like to look at it right away, in case there are any questions."

Looking regretfully at his breakfast, Archer turned on the device and entered the report disk. He discovered that Gardiner had declassified her personnel file and it contained more information that it had before she left. He perused it swiftly. For the last year, the first question on anyone's mind after meeting someone new seemed to be: Where were you when the Xindi attacked? He skimmed through the entries until he found the pertinent data.

"You were working in Antarctica?"

"Yes," she agreed, poking at the food with a fork. "I have a background in bio-tech and the discovery of the wreckage seemed to utilize those talents." She didn't add anything further; seeming to be fully aware that Archer was cognizant of the wreckage she spoke of.

Archer looked up. He'd chased those aliens out of the entire quadrant.

"There wasn't much left behind, but there was a need for information about what was left," she added, poking at the muffin with her fork before giving in and eating it.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"My results were inconclusive. I was called away before I had a chance to make any firm theories."

"You were called to Florida." That was a statement. Every medical professional had been called to lend aid.

"Yes, for a couple of weeks I focused on the treatment of chemical and radiation burns. After a while, a team was put together to sift through the trench trying to locate genetic residue, in order to more accurately identify the dead or missing. Occasionally we'd find a tooth or a bone, but mostly it was just sifting through the dirt."

"Why wouldn't that show up on your initial record?" Archer shuddered to think what search and rescue was like in those initial days when _Enterprise_ was still en route to Earth.

"In the first days one of the doctors was accosted by a victim's family as he stopped in a diner for coffee. They demanded to know why we weren't doing more. He was shook up and asked to be removed from the project. The names of the rest of the doctors and rescue personnel were withheld from the public and continue to be so. The Council was concerned because your crew suffered losses in the initial attack. For example, Trip's a good guy but he might look at me differently knowing I may have been the one to sign his sister's death warrant." _He might have to live that nightmare all over again, _she thought

"Did you?"

She paused. There was no way to explain how it felt to hold dirt in your hand and know that more than one person had once been standing there. "I don't remember all the names of all the warrants I signed. There were a lot." _Seven million to be exact, _she mentally added

"You served on the lunar colony?" Archer returned to the padd.

She explained about being a stand-in for the doctors in the MACO training. "Those weeks were so busy that I wouldn't recognize any of them if they were on board your ship."

"You requested to transfer to _Enterprise_ then." He wondered if having an extra doctor on board would have saved some of the twenty-seven crew that died that year.

"It was denied." She frowned. "I believed that my knowledge and expertise would be beneficial to you in the Expanse, but it seems the Council felt I would be more useful on Earth. I was assigned to the Command Center. Our main goal was protecting Earth from further attack in the event that you failed."

He restrained the shudder at just how close that event had been.

She noticed his inquisitive gaze. "I've been following you around for a while, it seems," she grinned. "Did you know that I was on the short list of doctors considered for the position of Chief Medical Officer for your maiden voyage? You refused to consider me although I can't remember if it was because of my youth or my gender."

"It was your age," Archer murmured, vaguely recalling a name on the list that Forrest gave him, and thinking that it was a hoax because the candidate was so young. He hadn't even bothered to look at the name.

"Hrmm," she grunted. "In the end it didn't matter. I was off-world at the time and you left space dock early. Phlox was a fine choice."

"He was geographically closer than any other doctor. Where were you then?"

She paused again as though searching for words. "A friend...requested some assistance. Starfleet let me take a leave of absence for personal reasons."

"Doing what?" The conversation seemed less gruesome and Archer piled a fork with egg.

"My friend was having trouble with some officials," she danced around the direct question. "I offered my assistance."

"Was it a medical problem?" he asked. He watched her shake her head.

"Are you a doctor or a lawyer?" he teased.

"It seems I have a knack for bossing people around," she smiled, praying he wouldn't ask anything further. "My friend called me in, hoping my cooler head might prevail."

"Did you?" he inquired.

"My friend was not incarcerated," she answered vaguely.

"I don't get anymore details than that?" he asked, twirling the fork around in his hand.

"It's personal." Her manner was subdued and she winced, waiting for Archer to hit the roof.

Archer had been planning a long talk with the doctor about her work and his need for information. She made it easy by starting one with him. Until this moment she seemed to be open and honest in everything she told him. He decided to let the refusal go unchallenged, at least for now.

He glanced again at the pad, his breakfast all but forgotten. "You grew up in Maine," he indicated.

Andie hesitated. "My grandparents had a house there. I haven't been there since they passed away." She offered a small grin. "I liked the boats."

"You don't call that place home?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I move around a lot." She pushed her potatoes around her plate, and fiddled with the napkin on her lap.

"Except for the time you spent in boarding school." He was leading her through a conversation now.

"I didn't like boarding school. It was...lonely."

That much he believed to be the absolute truth. Not that he considered the other facts of her life to be lies, but that tidbit held a ring of genuineness to it, rather than the glib glossary of facts she recited.

"You served aboard the _Dolce Vida_."

"I got off before the unpleasantness began."

"The crew went mad?" Another space legend that kept small children awake at night.

"Starfleet Medical concluded that thefreighter had been exposed to a highly addictive narcotic. It was believed to be part of a shipment destined for delivery at Tau Bootis. The crew became agitated and attacked one another. The shipment was never recovered. Pirates are generally thought to be responsible."

"You got off early?" A less accepting man might find it odd that she escaped so many unpleasant things in her young, secretive life.

"I caught a passenger shuttle to Epsilon Indi. Then I caught a freighter back to Earth."

"For what purpose?"

"I was recalled to Starfleet Command." She eyed him evenly.

"You travel a lot," he noted.

"Yes," she agreed. There was something about the simple way she answered his questions that brought to mind T'Pol's first year aboard Enterprise. Her Vulcan training taught her to be restrained.

"Have you ever served aboard a Vulcan ship?" he wondered out loud.

"Yes," she answered, her mouth tilting up slightly at the edges. "The _T'Lara_. The captain requested a transfer when I created a disruption on board."

"What kind of disruption?" Archer wondered.

"I ate with my fingers," she replied in all seriousness, her sobriety choking back the laughter that threatened to erupt in his throat.

"I hadn't heard about that," he murmured. "I thought T'Pol was the first cross-cultural officer to serve on a ship."

"There were several attempts to mingle crews together," she told him, her eyes twinkling. "Due to cultural differences, it has been difficult to manage. Commander T'Pol is to be commended for her adaptation to a foreign culture."

Archer found that slightly offensive as well as greatly humorous. Shrugging it off, he started her file at the beginning. "You have several misconduct reports during your college years."

The young woman hesitated. "I had some rage issues back then. I liked to solve disputes by punching someone. All the charges were dropped and I learned better ways to cope with my anger."

"Are you sure?" He thought of all the complaints he'd heard against her. Of course most of those had been filed by Malcolm.

"If I wasn't better I would have punched Reed by now," she told him evenly.

He tried not to snort with laughter. "You did shoot him," he reminded her.

"That was an accident!" she reminded him testily.

"What was your favorite part of med school?" He tried to direct the conversation to something less quarrelsome. He found he was enjoying this peace and wanted it to last.

"I was offered the opportunity to intern with the Interspecies Medical Exchange one summer. I spent three months aboard the _Hippocrates_ wandering the galaxy, learning from other doctors. We even landed on Denobula for two weeks. They have the most incredible medical facilities there!"

Intrigued by the way her face lit up and the worshipful way in which she followed his Denobulan physician around, Archer raised an eyebrow. "You knew Phlox before you came on board?"

The glow faded to mild scorn. "There are twelve billion people on the main continent of the primary planet! I didn't even run into his extended family!" She beamed again. "But apparently he's got quite a reputation. His name was on the lips of every scientist on the planet. He was finishing his research and writing this paper on the propagation of viruses. It's incredible! Have you read it? I could send a copy to you, if you're missing one!"

Archer suppressed the shudder. Reading a long essay on scientific research was the best way to fall asleep, but it looked as though Andie and Phlox probably sat up all night talking about it like it was the Championship Water Polo Tournament. "Thank you, I don't think that's necessary."

Barreling on as though she didn't notice his reluctance, Andie continued to effuse. "That paper is brilliant! It's what started my interest in viral research, which later led to me working as an assistant for Godfreid." The glow faded again. "I guess that didn't work out so well." She perked up again. "But I almost started punching people again in order to serve on board _Enterprise_ with such a renowned physician as Phlox! My father would plotz if he heard I was working with him!"

"Plotz?" Archer inquired, amused now at her enthusiasm. She didn't display this kind of enthusiasm for anything else. He was perturbed that she wasn't excited to be serving on _Enterprise_; so much as she was excited to be working with Phlox.

She blushed. "I heard that word from Crewman Cohen. Didn't I use it correctly?"

"It's fine," he told her. "I didn't realize you had such an interest in viral research." He toyed with his cold breakfast.

"I have minor degrees in viral research and exobiology although my specialties are in emergency trauma medicine and surgical techniques."

Archer choked. Andie patted him on the back and continued chatting. "I don't sleep very well so I had lots of time to study in school. Coffee was a godsend." She refilled her mug and he noticed by her shimmy that her foot was tapping restlessly on the ground. He'd lost count of her coffee intake.

When he stopped coughing he looked at her with new eyes.

"You're wondering what you've been doing with your time, aren't you?" she grinned. "I get that a lot."

"You can do all that _and_ you have a background in bio-tech?" he asked.

"I treated a patient with a pacemaker and I thought how miraculous it is to apply synthetic devices to hinder the natural genetic decomposition. I took some courses to understand it better."

"Some courses?"

"I have a minor degree," she told him sheepishly. "It was very interesting."

Jon swallowed hard and nearly started choking again. He was a damn fine pilot and he'd worked his butt off getting the NX-project off the ground, but she made him feel like he'd been sitting still his whole life. Her curiosity would certainly explain the three pads sitting in front of her. The enormous amounts of caffeine would account for how she could accomplish it all.

"I don't mean to be pushy," she said, glancing at the chronometer, "But I'm due in Sickbay shortly, and I just wanted to know if there's anything else you want to know."

"Uh," Archer glanced down at the list of things she'd done in her life, which was much shorter than the things he'd accomplished in his. "Do you do anything for fun?"

"Bio-technology and viral research _are_ fun," she told him, in a tone that clearly indicated she thought he was dim. "I also enjoy mountain climbing, surfing and skydiving. And I knit."

If he wasn't the captain he would have let his jaw fall on the floor. "Why didn't I want you on my ship again?" He felt off-balance. He hated that feeling.

"I was too young, and presumed to be reckless and off-balance." She grinned. "You probably thought I might shoot someone."

"Right." He pursed his lips. "I like to climb mountains too," he contributed.

"Good!" She smiled and bit her lip as though holding back some other comment. "We should compare stories sometime."

She'd just come back from a tour of _Columbia_; Jon wondered if Captain Hernandez had made mention of their last climb together. He shook his head. Now he was getting as paranoid as Malcolm. He cleared his throat.

"It's good to have you back aboard, Doctor." Jon added that stern captain's tone for good measure. "I expect that you will behave with courtesy toward all crewmembers, even the ones you don't like. I expect you to refrain from punching all crewmembers, even the ones you don't like. Courtesy is never out of line."

Andie's lip twitched.

"I expect you to comport yourself with dignity and respect as though Admiral Gardiner is looking over your shoulder at every moment," he frowned at her. "Most of all, I expect you to be good."

"Gee, tall order," she commented sarcastically. "I'll see what I can do about that." A smile played around the corner of her mouth as she stood.

"By the way," Archer stopped her before she left. "I would prefer that you tell me when something is classified rather than prevaricating. It'll save us time in the future."

"No more lies," she acknowledged. "I'll do my best."

He let her go. Remaining in his chair for one last cup before heading to the bridge, Archer pondered why Starfleet Command would classify most of that material. Her list of posts read like a chart of Starfleet's most dangerous and unpleasant works but there still didn't seem to be any reason to hide her background.

Setting down his coffee cup, he stood and stared out the window for a long moment. The only explanation he could conceive had something to do with her very famous father. She wasn't allowed to speak of her time on the Donovan Colony although her father had brought her with him. There must be more to her story than even this résumé could tell.

Feeling the weight settle on his shoulders, he thanked the steward that came to clear the table and headed up to the bridge. Archer worried about Andie. It must be terribly lonely to be unable to speak of things that came so easily to conversation, like where you grew up and how you spent your summer vacations. Jon could understand that. He had a personal relationship with loneliness himself.

The burdens of command had weighed on him heavily recently. He wondered how the young doctor could do it at all. He snickered as he realized that she exercised her frustrations with physical violence. Just as quickly, he stopped laughing as he realized she'd be aboard for several more months. Sighing, he entered the bridge.


	35. Chapter 35

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 35

* * *

"So I guess the good doctor won't be joining us?" Malcolm asked as he sat down at a table with a plate of pasta primavera.

"Nah," Trip dug his fork into the linguine pesto and sniffed appreciatively. "She's dining with Phlox in the med-lab tonight. Rostov tells me she had him tearing apart the imaging chamber at least three different times this morning, looking for a leak that wasn't there."

"They're dining in the med-lab?" Malcolm stopped chewing. "Does that seem hygienic to you? I wouldn't care to eat while surrounded by all those slimy creatures."

Trip eyed a steamed mushroom. "I don't really want to think about it," he said with a shudder.

"Think about what?" Travis Mayweather sat unbidden at their table, with a plate so full both men were surprised the china didn't crack under the weight of it.

"Phlox's fauna," Trip said, shrugging and filling his mouth again.

"Right!" Travis snapped his fingers, even as he popped a spoon of green gelatin into his mouth. "Tonight's the doctors' movie night!"

"Movie night?" Both sets of ears perked up.

"Andie brought back some film back from Earth that she thought Phlox might like," Travis whirled spaghetti onto a fork. "She told Crewman Cutler about it, and Liz let it slip when she was telling me about the updates to the imaging chamber."

"Why would Cutler tell you about the repair work?" Malcolm asked.

"She was telling me how helpful Rostov was and wanted to know if there was something she could do to thank him for his help today." Travis couldn't help the glint that shone in his eye. "I think she's sweet on Rostov. He's a good friend. I heartily approve of the match!"

"Especially since it takes his attentions away from Ensign Carter," Malcolm teased with a leer.

"Why wouldn't she show it to us? I might want to show it on the big screen!" Trip tried not to pout and failed. He took his job as ship's entertainment director very seriously and he was hurt not to be included.

"I don't think she thought we'd be interested," Travis garbled around a mouthful of pasta. "Apparently it's some sort of health film."

"I enjoy health," Malcolm protested weakly. An idea began to form in his head, brought forth in part by his displeasure at discovering that Chang had been unable to follow Andie on her shore leave to verify her activity. Malcolm had pursed his lips in displeasure at the Admiral's directive to leave her alone, even though he had decided not to pursue any further inquiries himself. He just didn't want to be left out. "Perhaps they'd allow us to join them."

Trip looked up, surprised. "You want to watch a health film with a couple of doctors?"

Malcolm grinned slyly. "It couldn't hurt to ask."

Trip caught the calculating tone in the Brit's voice and snuck a look at the oblivious Mayweather, who was gobbling his food like it was his last meal. "It _might_ hurt to ask," he muttered under his breath, but he finished his meal in record time.

* * *

Less than twenty minutes later Trip and Malcolm stood outside Sickbay looking around the corridors as though they were about to commit a crime.

"I can't believe we're going to do this," Trip whispered. "There's no reason to suspect that it isn't some movie about the mating habits of the common housefly."

"Isn't it better to be certain?" Malcolm asked, single minded in his purpose.

"Not really," Trip muttered, but his voice was so low that the lieutenant didn't pick up on it. Malcolm had followed Trip into trouble on more than one occasion; he thought it might be his turn to return the favor.

They both walked into Sickbay and were greeted by silence. A few critters chirped or shuffled in their cages, but the customary welcome by the congenial physician was missing. After a long moment a disembodied voice could be heard over the audio channel.

"Is there something I do for you gentlemen?"

"Phlox?" Trip called out feeling silly for talking to an empty room. "We were just wondering if you'd mind some extra company tonight." Malcolm elbowed Trip in the ribs for revealing their plans, but it was too late.

"It would be my pleasure to attend the next movie night in the company of either one or both of you, but tonight I'm afraid the entertainment is not considered entertaining for the average layperson."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he sounded nervous," Malcolm growled quietly.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Trip chided. "What could he have to be nervous about?"

Malcolm arched an eyebrow and nodded knowingly. Trip sighed with frustration, realizing that his question brought him in line with Malcolm's need for knowledge.

"Sorry to bother you, Doc," Trip called out to the room, backing toward the doors. "I'll be sure and save you a seat at the next movie night."

"Good night, sirs!" The cheery voice sounded relieved before the comm. clicked off.

"If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say they were in Phlox's office," Trip suggested reluctantly. "It's set up to monitor the door already, which would be convenient if both doctors were otherwise engaged for the evenin'."

"There is only one entrance to Phlox's office," Malcolm whispered as they both left the main medical lab. "But there is an access shaft that runs overhead. We should be able to see what's going on in there," Malcolm's face lit up.

"The last time we fooled around in some access shaft, we wound up being teleported away," Trip reminded his friend.

"The last time we had to crawl through the access shafts, we were on a repair vessel that abducted a member of our crew!" Malcolm crowed triumphantly.

Trip snorted. "You think Andie and Phlox have abducted somebody?" The sarcasm was either lost or ignored by the Brit.

"I wouldn't put it past them for medical research!" The English tones were downright giddy with excitement for the mission that lay ahead.

Trip shook his head but allowed Malcolm to lead him to the nearest portal. Climbing inside quickly in case other members of the crew were about, Reed also pulled the door closed behind them, leaving them in semi-darkness of the vertical shaft. There was a moment of fumbling before a hand held light illuminated the cramped area now occupied by two grown men pressed closely together.

"Which way?" Malcolm waved his little flashlight around.

Trip pulled a hand from between them to gingerly point to his right. "That way," he indicated to the shorter man.

"Right!" Maneuvering his body in a half circle wasn't as easy as he thought it might be, and Malcolm made a mental note to skip dessert for a little while. He ignored Trip's choked exclamation when he accidentally brushed his hand too closely to Trip's pants and crawled up a short ladder and into the narrow tube that stretched throughout the ship.

"I understand Captain Jeffries went ahead and told Starfleet to add those maintenance shafts to _Columbia_ like he wanted to put on _Enterprise_," Trip mumbled as he followed the shorter man. "I made a recommendation to that effect so this sort of business gets easier, at least with the next generation of ships."

"Keep your voice down," Malcolm whispered, feeling the rush of covert observation wash over him. "We're nearly there."

The small grate in the wall near the top of the room allowed surveillance of the small workspace afforded to the chief medical officer. Trip had to squeeze tightly next to Malcolm to get a space with fresher air and a view.

Their quarry was visible beneath, seated at two rather comfortable looking desk chairs. Andie propped her feet on a low table in front of her and held a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Phlox was seated next to her and sipped out of a tall glass. The remains of Chinese food were scattered across the desk behind them, including the stasis cartons that had carried it. The female offered a red rubbery substance to the alien who took it gingerly.

"Licorice whips are awesome, Phlox!" Andie told him absently, chewing on a kernel of popcorn.

The health movie played on the large screen in front of them. It took up most of one wall and was ordinarily used for close study of patients' charts. This evening it had a much different purpose and the two men wrangled around to a clearer view in the narrow tunnel.

"What the hell are they watching?" Trip muttered in disgust from his cramped position in the shaft. His primary view was blocked by Malcolm's shoulder but he thought he saw skin on the monitor.

Faintly the voices carried to the two men in the access shaft. "Is he biting her?" Phlox inquired of his partner down below. "That's quite common among a species of swamp dwelling maggots I once came across."

"He's not biting, just nibbling to provoke sensation," Andie told him. "There are several major nerve endings in the female breast."

"Is it customary to seduce all maintenance personnel?"

"It's rather unusual, but it seems she was driven to her actions by the size of his….uh, monkey wrench." Andie sounded bemused.

"Do most humans consider size to be important?" Phlox asked as a bass guitar twanged in the back ground as a male and female shed their clothes and did some very personal things to one another.

Andie chuckled. "Sometimes it can be an issue!"

"That's pornography!" Malcolm burst out in a shocked whisper. Unfortunately his head jerked upwards at the knowledge and in the narrow tunnel his cranium banged loudly against the tube they were lying in.

Dr. Andie's feet hit the floor as Phlox paused the recording. Both looked around suspiciously. Malcolm held his breath and waited for the blood to stop spilling out of his tongue, which he bit when he hit his head. Trip ducked his head and wondered how he got roped into spying on doctors watching dirty movies in the name of ship security.

Distrustful of her eyes, Andie whipped out a handheld scanner and the game was afoot. She recognized human bio-signs in the wall behind her and glared at the narrow grate. "I'm going to kick your ass, buddy," she growled, pointing at the grate, although she couldn't possibly recognize the occupants through the narrow slits. Without pause, she leaped out of her chair and rushed for the door, intent on catching the culprits before they could escape and lose their identities.

Malcolm and Trip cursed as they squiggled through the tiny tunnel, hoping to get out of the narrow confines before being spotted by the angry doctor.

"I don't really need this incident going on my permanent record!" Trip hissed as he scurried down the short ladder ahead of Malcolm.

"I don't really want to discuss this with the captain!" Malcolm countered, as Trip groaned. They could both imagine what a difficult conversation that would be.

They stumbled out into the corridor and straight into the glaring face of one very displeased doctor.

"You!" She hissed in recognition. "Sickbay! Now!" Her voice was furious but quiet as she frowned fiercely at them.

"Actually, Andie…" Trip started to explain. He found himself yelping as two fingers fastened on his earlobe in an iron grip. Barely twisting his head he saw Malcolm suffer the same fate as they were dragged back to the medical lab like two naughty boys.

Phlox bustled out to greet them and raised the light levels as they entered. "Well, Commander, Lieutenant!" He seemed very happy to see them. "Now that they know about the movie, they can join us and offer a masculine opinion on the action!" He beamed and rocked back and forth on his heels. He was wearing an oversized long sleeved tee shirt that read: _C.M.O.: Check Me Out! _

"What the hell were you doing crawling through access tunnels?" Andie hollered. It seemed her quiet demeanor that had followed her back from Earth had just expired.

"We were protecting the ship!" Malcolm challenged brazenly. "We heard noises and thought that Phlox might be in jeopardy. As it turns out, the noises of distress weren't coming from Phlox." He crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to laugh. _They were watching porn! _

"You were what?" Her green eyes flashed as she whirled on him.

"You were hiding away with Phlox and we just wanted to know what you were up to," Trip tried to soothe her nerves, willing his mouth not to curve into what could only be considered ill-advised laughter.

"There is nothing strange about two physicians trading information on the medical conditions they come across in their work place," Phlox interjected. He'd been uncomfortable with the mysterious nature of their project, but judging from the male reaction in front of him, secrecy had been a good idea. Humans were so guarded about sex!

"You were spying on me? How could you?" Andie slugged Trip in the upper arm and he winced.

"You were watching dirty movies!" he protested, then jumped out of the way as she turned on him again.

"Those were not dirty movies!" she insisted, a flush coloring her cheeks. "They were films documenting the human sexual drive in a detail not found in most journals."

"You were watching for medical expertise?" Malcolm smirked. _Must. Not. Giggle._

"There's no harm done," Phlox broke in, restraining Andie with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps these gentlemen would care to join us?" He looked hopeful. "It would be useful to be exposed to the male point of view."

"No!" They both answered at once. Phlox was well-known for his interest in human mating rituals. It was a source of consternation for everyone who crossed his path.

"There's no need for exposure!" Malcolm assured him.

"We wouldn't want to intrude," Trip continued to be soothing. "You two looked pretty cozy."

"What did you come in for anyway?" Andie regained her composure and glared with great suspicion. "Everyone knew that Phlox and I were otherwise engaged this evening."

Trip shifted on his feet. "Well, Malcolm here thought that…"

"I thought that it would be all right to interrupt you for a minor medical emergency," Malcolm interjected.

Phlox moved forward to fetch a scanner, but Andie stopped him with one hand.

"What's the nature of your emergency?" she demanded suspiciously.

Malcolm's mind raced. "My…backside…has been aching recently and I was hoping…Phlox would take the time…to perform some more extensive scans on it," he explained haltingly.

"Your ass hurts?" Andie snorted derisively. "What did you do to it?"

"Actually, Doctor, it's what you did to it," Malcolm cursed himself under his breath. _His knuckle had recently been damaged. That would have been an excellent excuse_. He blamed his backside outburst on the shock of seeing a pornographic movie being watched in the medical ward. "You shot me and I haven't been the same since!"

"Seriously?" Andie screeched and Phlox's pets screeched with her. "Are you kidding me? Your ass hurts because I shot you? There's nothing wrong with you!"

"It pains me often," he told her soberly and earnestly, struggling to restrain his laughter as he rubbed the injured part with one hand.

"It was a blank cartridge!" she gritted out ferociously. "I barely grazed your butt! I am not going to spend the next four months on this ship with you bringing up your smarmy backside every time it rains!"

"I could barely sit at dinner." Malcolm didn't dare look at Tucker who bit his lip so hard to keep from laughing he thought it might break the skin.

"That's it! Drop your pants! I'm going to do an extensive exam of your backside and you are going to realize from the medical data that this is all in your head!" Andie was shouting loudly now. "There is nothing wrong with your ass!"

Malcolm tipped his head to one side and considered her with a victorious smirk on his face. "No," he agreed. "There's really nothing wrong with it at all, is there? So _good_ of you to notice, Doctor." He patted his bum affectionately and smirked again and left the room.

Andie stood in the medical lab with her jaw hanging open as she realized she'd been had. "That's not what I meant and you know it, you sonofabitch!" She was talking to the double doors he'd just exited.

Whirling around at Trip who was giggling so hard tears were leaking out of his eyes, she pointed an accusing finger. "What are you laughing at, you jackass?"

"I'm…uh, nothing," he struggled to get the words out before following Malcolm out the door in a hurry.

Andie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her own amusement. _So that's the funny Malcolm people kept talking about_, she thought. She refused to laugh.

"I really hate those two," she grumbled, as Phlox watched with bright eyes.

"Hostility can be a sign of…"

Andie held up a hand. "Don't tell me, Phlox. Not another word about it." She rolled her head around on her shoulders. "Want to finish the movie?"

"I have so many new questions now!" Phlox beamed. "Why didn't the woman in the film try to attack the plumber? I've seen that hostility is a sign of beginning affections in humans in several cases, but the only sign of cruelty the woman in the film exhibited was to pull his shirt open and lose all his buttons!"

Andie sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Andie stumbled into the Mess Hall in the morning and over the rim of her first cup of coffee noticed the two culprits enjoying a leisurely breakfast and glared. After filling a plate with breakfast she discovered that the only empty tables in the room were close to the one table she was trying to avoid. Holding her head high she sauntered in that direction, disdainfully glaring when Trip offered her a seat and a naughty smile.

Trip leaned across the distance to whisper loudly to Andie. "I hope you weren't up all night, Doc."

Malcolm snickered. "Were those health films particularly useful? I understand they can take quite a lot of out of you."

The double entendres were clear.

"Care to join us for breakfast?" Malcolm continued to leer. "Make it a three-way?"

"I would never dream of breaking up your solo act, Lieutenant," she purred, setting her tray down at the next table, and pulling a pad out of her pocket, pretending to read.

"Ah, yes," Malcolm nodded sagely. "More...research." He grinned suggetively.

Trip leaned back in his chair and grinned at Malcolm. "You know, I'm still havin' trouble with my drains getting' clogged in my bathroom. You know any good… plumbers… that could flush out the trouble?" His voice carried clearly to Andie's ear.

"I could recommend someone from maintenance," Malcolm smirked in return. "Johnson does carry a large wrench." He discovered he enjoyed teasing the scowling physician. "I'm told that's important sometimes."

Andie smirked coolly. "Why am I not surprised that Reed pays attention to the size of a plumber's wrench?"

His jaw dropped open in surprise. "I've been told that good things come in small packages."

"I'm not surprised. I'm sure some woman just wanted to soothe your ego."

Malcolm' eyes narrowed. "You ought to cut back on your carbohydrate intake. Denobulans are accustomed to the attentions of three women. You'll need your strength to keep up."

Andie returned the glare in kind. "I see you are once again the company of Commander Tucker. Don't let me keep you from your domestic bliss."

"Hey!" Trip protested, unheard as they continued to argue.

"Next time you want to view a film in private, you should hang a sign!"

"I've got a sign right here!" Andie held up a hand with one finger extended, making a rude statement.

"Is that an offer?"

"I might be if I thought you were capable of _rising_ to the challenge."

"Hey, now!" Trip tried to soothe feelings as the combatants leaped to their feet. "There's no need to come to blows!"

Malcolm looked down at his friend. "Whose side are you on?" he snickered.

"He's on the side of you that isn't dirty," Andie told the dark-haired man before flinging a grape at his head. "Not that there's much of that."

As the grape brushed against the side of his head, Malcolm would later wonder why she thought to open an offensive against the tactical officer, whose honor demanded that he retaliate. Trip tried to put a stop to the mess before it got out of hand but became the unwilling casualty of a random pat of butter.

It was the open call to the bridge that saved themfrom all-out war.


	36. Chapter 36

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 36

* * *

All hands reported to their stations, and Hoshi brought up on the main screen the faint image of a small ship in the vicinity.

"Looks like we may have a first contact this morning!" Archer chirped gleefully. "Hail them, Hoshi."

The communications officer sent out a brief greeting to no avail. "They aren't answering, Captain," she replied.

"They seem to be pulling away, sir," Mayweather piped up from his controls at navigation, where he was having trouble keeping the small vessel in view as it turned and rapidly fled the area.

"Can they hear us?" Archer asked.

"The vessel may be small, but it is certain that their ship picked up our hail," T'Pol confirmed from her post.

"Should we pursue them, sir?" Malcolm's eyes narrowed. "It's strange that they want to get away from us as soon as we spotted them."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Malcolm," the captain cautioned. "Maybe they just had an appointment to keep." Jon frowned as something else caught his attention. "Is that jelly on your collar?"

Twisting his head around, Malcolm caught a curse before it slipped out of his mouth. "Sorry, sir," he apologized quickly. "Breakfast was rather rushed this morning." _That was mostly true_, he thought.

"They just left the range of our sensors, Captain," Hoshi confirmed.

Archer sighed. That was the end of his interesting day. "Why don't you go get changed?" he suggested to his normally tidy tactical officer.

"Yes, sir," Malcolm sat up straight and left when his replacement arrived.

As soon as he was gone, Archer moved toward Hoshi's console. "I hear there was a small altercation in the Mess Hall this morning. Rumor has it there was a food fight?" He spoke quietly hoping that only one pair of sharp ears would hear him. He wouldn't have given much more thought to the matter except for the tell-tale stain of strawberry on Malcolm's collar.

"Not a fight, sir," Hoshi blushed to tattle on her friends. "It was more of a spirited discussion." It might have turned into a full blown fight if the call to the bridge hadn't occurred at an opportune moment.

"Doctor Brainerd seems to excite tempers wherever she goes," T'Pol chimed in. Archer had forgotten that her hearing was also excellent.

* * *

"What's the word, Captain?" Trip's voice came over the intercom from Engineering where he waited to give instructions to the mechanical team.

"Sorry for the miscalculation, Trip," Archer told his friend. "I guess there is no first contact for us today."

Down in Engineering Trip sighed silently. "That's okay. We probably needed to work on our hustle." He signed off the com, thinking how nice it might to be to discover something new. Noticing the crewmembers standing around watching him intently, he waved them back to their previous duties.

"Is that butter under your ear?" Hess inquired as she stood at his shoulder.

Trip brushed a hand near his jumpsuit and came away with a pat of butter on his finger. He cursed Malcolm's rampant paranoia and responsive temperament silently. "Gee, how'd that get there?" He feigned innocence.

Hess wasn't fooled. She'd been dining with Hoshi this morning. "Looks like you got caught in the middle," she grinned. "Why don't you go wash up? I can keep an eye on things for a while."

Wryly he smiled. "Thanks. I'll be right back."

He was sure it was only going to take him a minute to kill Malcolm. Pursing his lips as he waited for the lift, he thought it might take two or three minutes to kill Andie, providing he could get the jump on her. Scowling at the poor crewman unlucky enough to share a turbo-lift with him, he retreated to his cabin.

* * *

"Where's Phlox?" Andie inquired as she trotted through the double doors. "I thought he'd be here by now?"

"I guess he's a little late this morning," Liz noted dubiously, dropping a leaf into a glass cage.

"It's not like him to be late," Andie frowned. "Frankly, I didn't know he even went into his cabin at all! I thought he just stayed here all the time." She pulled some small medical items from a drawer in anticipation of casualties. "He's usually here for feeding time."

"Good morning, Doctor, Crewman," Phlox hurried through the double doors to Andie's relief. "It seems I overslept this morning. I haven't done that since..." He stared vacantly into space.

When it seemed he wouldn't go on, Liz prompted him. "Since when, Doctor?"

Phlox blinked. He had completely lost the train of thought, and had no idea what he'd been about to say at all. "Oh, since I don't know when," he finished, adding a statement he'd heard other crewmembers say on occasion.

"Sorry," Andie apologized. "I guess I kept you out late."

Liz held back a smirk. When she first came aboard, she'd also been fascinated by the gregarious doctor. Andie would figure out that he wasn't romantic material sooner or later. It never occurred to her that the blond doctor had a different kind of date with the Denobulan last night.

The three of them puttered around, making preparations for personnel that might be making their way into Sickbay. It might be somebody injured during their regular duties, or an accident resulting in the hostile actions of the aliens out the door. Without windows in the med-lab it was hard to tell what might be happening outside.

It wasn't very long before Hoshi sent an all-clear through the ship. Inside Sickbay, the three medical members sighed with relief and went about securing the room for regular duty, and putting away items they had just set out.

"I think I'll catch up on some charts," Phlox announced when they were finished. He parted company and went into his small office. He weaved around the table as he made his way to the small office.

Andie frowned after him. "Does he seem all right to you?" she asked Liz. "His eyes were a little red."

Cutler smiled. "If he had a late night, he might have difficulty getting around this morning. He's not a young man, you know." She looked at the doctor more closely. "Is that peanut butter on your shirt?"

Peering myopically down, Andie sniffed the spot. "Yes, it is." Moving to the eyewash station, she wet a tissue and dabbed at the spot, leaving a wet mark on her scrubs. Deciding that was all the stain she was going to remove, she shrugged and threw the tissue in the waste receptacle.

Shaking off her earlier unease, she turned to face Liz more fully. "So, how scrupulous was Rostov in fixing our imaging chamber yesterday?" A wicked smile invited confidences and Liz fell to gushing about the supreme beauty and charm and intelligence of the engineer.

* * *

A tall blond was joined at the turbo-lift by the object of his ire.

"Lyoo-tenant." Trip sulked in an exaggeratedly snotty fashion.

"Commander," Malcolm greeted his pal, tugging his clean collar neatly into place.

Trip glared over his shoulder at his friend.

"You had to throw butter at her?" he accused.

"Yes, sir," Reed answered modestly. It had been amusingly juvenile. "It seemed to be a matter of honor."

"You missed!" Trip glowered.

"Yes, sir." Now he struggled to hold back a grin.

"I had butter in my hair!" Trip hissed. They stepped inside the open doors. "Hess found it!"

"I wore jelly near my ear!" Malcolm protested weakly. "The captain noticed!"

"All because you wanted to watch doctors watching porn," Trip huffed disgustedly as he stepped out of the lift on D Deck and made his way to Engineering. Behind him, he heard a stifled giggle as the doors slid shut. Malcolm hadn't had that much fun at breakfast in a long time.

* * *

It was Friday night and a movie promised to claim the attention of many on board that evening. Hoshi had demanded something more soothing than the last selections had been, and had chosen one that Travis insisted on referring to as a "chick movie." He declined his presence, while turning up his nose, although other crewmembers felt differently than the helmsman.

On another deck, negotiations of a similar sort were already under way.

"Come on," Trip begged. "You'll like it!" He knew the promise was rash; it really didn't seem like her kind of film.

"I do not believe it is a question of whether or not I will like it," T'Pol droned, double checking the data on her pad and comparing it to the display panel. "I have a great deal of work to complete."

"You do not!" he argued gently. "You're double checking the readouts for the third time today."

"After I have finished these readings, I plan to meditate," T'Pol informed him. She was uncertain that the control she held over her feelings would hold up to extensive contact with the personable man before her. Three months had passed since her mother died, and although she'd been devouring the latest translations of the discovered religious texts, she still felt less than certain about her ability to manage her feelings. She supposed she could blame that on the Trellium addiction, but deep inside, she couldn't accept that as the complete reason.

Trouble was she didn't really want to know what the complete reason was. The answer to that question seemed inordinately complicated.

"You can't spend all your time alone," Trip told her in the tone that meant serious business.

T'Pol shifted and moved to the next display panel in the science department. Trip moved along with her.

"Are you following me?" she asked, frowning slightly. She caught her reflection in the display and instantly smoothed her features.

"I'm going to nag you until you agree to sit in the dark and watch a chick movie with the rest of us," Trip told her stubbornly. "So, yes, I'm following you." He folded his arms across his chest.

T'Pol pondered his resolve. He really would spend all night following her around, disrupting her concentration and chattering on endlessly about something that struck his fancy. She had no doubt as to his fortitude when he set his mind to it. Drawing a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, visualizing the frustrations he made her feel disappearing on the wind.

"If I have completed my work, then I will join you for the movie," she acquiesced.

"Good!" he grinned. He sobered slightly. "I know you're going through something big right now, but you can't sacrifice your duty to the crew to get through it. Your presence is missed, Commander." He winked at her and sauntered out of the room, leaving her in blissful silence.

_Her presence was missed._ That thought gave her great pleasure and she chided herself for being relieved to hear it. The curve of her forehead was conspicuously devoid of crevices for the rest of the afternoon as she prepared to attend a 'chick flick'.

* * *

A gaggle of men had gathered in the MACO training room where several tables had been set up to play cards. Corporals Woods and Finn had managed to procure a large amount of beer and the testosterone levels were high as some of the crew, mainly men, sought refuge from their more delicate counterparts.

Andie entered the room wearing a black tee shirt with a picture of a puppy chewing on a rawhide toy. _Bad to the Bone_, the caption read. Her expression was less playful. She'd just secured permission from the captain for the treat she was about to offer, but try as she might, she couldn't bully him into showing his face below decks. _"It's better that a captain remains aloof,"_ he told her. She was beginning to wonder how much time he'd been spending alone lately. The catcalls when she entered the room forced the frown to flee her face, and she offered up her stash of cigars.

"One night only!" she told them cheerfully. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em!" She handed out a thin cigar to each player that stretched out a hand. Taking a seat at a table, she accepted the furnished cards and grinned at one of the players. "I'll play long enough to win the pants off you," she playfully threatened Trip, who snickered in response.

"All the women want to take away my pants!" he grinned. "I can't say as I blame 'em!" There were hearty guffaws at that statement, and several loud objections. "I've got about ten more minutes until the movie starts, so do your worst!" he challenged Andie. "Don't light up until I leave though. T'Pol will smell it all over me."

By the time he excused himself, Andie was lightheartedly chagrined that he was still fully clothed. She took the good-natured ribbing from the others with grace, protesting that she was robbed of the chance by the engineer's cowardice. Trip made a face as he stood up.

"Here's someone who needs his pants removed!" Trip joked, pulling the newly arrived Henry Bowman into his chair. Henry stammered and stuttered, taking the cards that were shoved into one hand and the beverage that was shoved in the other.

"We'll make a man out of you, I promise!" Parsons chuckled, slugging him gently on the shoulder. She brushed her ponytail off her neck and plucked the stogie from her mouth as she leveled a glare at the other members of the table. "Who's in?"

Cooper and Mayweather cheerfully dropped their ante in the pot. Andie wavered, but tossed in her chips. In twenty minutes, she still hadn't won anybody's pants, but Henry was waffling between being hated and being adored. In true beginner's luck, he'd won several hands, but he took so long to decide on his moves that his fellow players were likely to throw him out.

The bald man from the security team, known through cruel irony as Curly, slapped Henry on the back. "Never let them tell you how to play when you're winning, kid!" He returned to his seat at the next table and raised his bet against his superior. Malcolm matched his bet and smiled in agreement at Curly's assessment.

Henry choked on the smoke blown in his face by the bald man, but grinned and slurped his beer. He laid down two more chips.

Andie threw in her cards. "I'm out," she sighed. "And I'm done." She stubbed out her own stogie in the bucket of sand provided by maintenance. "I've got to get up early in the morning." She waved at Ensign Black to take her seat. "You look after my Henry, now, y'hear?"

Ian grinned and Henry blushed. Malcolm frowned at her use of the possessive with regards to the young impressionable ensign. He was startled to find he hadn't been paying attention to the betting at his own table.

Although fairly early in the evening, she exited the room with a beer in her hand and in her relief to be out of the crowded room, nearly bumped into Malcolm Reed, who had just lost his hand to the cheerful Curly.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. A bottle dangled from his fingers as well.

"Not any sooner than you," she pointed out. She accepted the wave of his hand as her cue to precede him through the door. They wandered slowly through the corridor, the noisy guffaws from the poker games fading in the background.

"I've had a long day," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders to relieve some of the tension. "What's your excuse?"

"I'm not fond of poker," she told him.

"I though you told Commander Tucker that you played well?" he asked, thinking of Trip's smirk when he told Reed that three young Azorians had carried Andie's luggage to the shuttle pod because she'd been lucky at cards.

"I _can_ play poker, I just don't _care_ to," she reiterated clearly, before sipping from her bottle.

At his probing glance, she wrinkled up her nose. "I was lost in a game of cards once. I'd rather not relive the experience." She looked down and brushed away a fleck of cool ash that rested on her tee shirt, missing his curious glance.

Falling into step beside her, he thought he heard wrong. "You lost a hand of cards?"

"No," she replied carefully, as though he was slightly dim, "I was lost in a game of ...you know what? Nevermind." She shook her head and refused to clarify further, sipping from her longneck bottle and wandering into the aft Observation Lounge to watch the stars slide by.

He followed her into the dim room. "How come you're not at the movie?"

"What's playing?" she screwed up her face trying to remember, dropping into a chair.

"Something about a man and a woman falling in love through correspondence." Malcolm flopped down in the cushioned chair on the other side of the narrow table. He wore crisp jeans and a navy blue button down shirt. The deep color and the dim lights turned his eyes to deep pools of shadow. He normally wore his uniform to all the functions on the ship, but tonight he wanted to look more at ease.

"No wonder I didn't go," Andie snorted. "I'd rather be poked with sharp sticks." She kicked off her bear claw slippers and propped her sock feet on the low ledge that ran under all the windows, as she reclined in a similar fashion, tilting her head back.

"Not a fan of romantic movies?" he asked. He sipped carefully from his own bottle.

"I'm not a fan of romance in particular," she told him flatly. "It's just an archaic notion meant to keep women subjugated to men in the hopes that their outdated, impracticable ideals will be realized."

Staring at her in surprise, Malcolm needled her gently. "Tell me how you really feel!" He couldn't remember ever meeting a woman who didn't dream of being swept off their feet.

Heaving a deep sigh, Andie rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Maybe I'm just in a bad mood."

"Perhaps your infatuation with porn is having an unhealthy effect on your perception of romance?" After gleefully throwing that statement into the air, he ducked down in his chair as though he expected her to jump up and throw something at him, peeking at her with merriment.

Instead of attacking, she just glared, although it was possible that her expression alone could cause milk to curdle. "I think you're the one infatuated with porn, you peeping Tom," she snorted derisively. "Ever since I came on board, Phlox has been inquisitive about human sexual practices. Short of performing them for him, a film seemed the most informative method."

Malcolm choked on his beverage at her incongruously prim tone. "Performing them for him? Are you an exhibitionist too?"

"Why? You wanna watch?" she purred, turning a naughty smirk his direction. "There's nothing wrong with sex. It makes you feel good and it's perfectly natural." She tossed him haughty look, punctuated with giggles. "Besides, I'm pretty. He should be so lucky to look at me!"

"I think you overstate your assets," Malcolm assured her easily.

"I think its sweet you've studied my assets with a discerning eye," she tossed back in a cavity-inducing lilt.

They exchanged looks and snickered. A long minute passed.

"So this is peaceful co-existence?" she murmured, tipping her head back and swallowing the last mouthful of beer.

"Yes it is." Malcolm laced his hands behind his head. He paused a moment. "You're contemplating ways to kick my chair over, aren't you?"

Her mouth twitched. "Maybe."

All of a sudden Jimmy's warning came back to her. _This guy swims with sharks_, her friend said. _Stay away from him_. Jimmy had a pretty good sense for trouble. Actually he had a knack for staying out of it. When he spoke, she tended to listen to him.

"Thanks for the company, Lieutenant." Andie stood and shoved her feet back into her slippers. "I think I might turn in."

Respectfully, Malcolm stood. "Good night, Doctor." He watched her go, wondering what made her scurry out of the room in such a hurry. Grimacing, he though about his gentle sting. He should have never insinuated she was unattractive. Silently he cursed his inability to connect with women, and decided to study up on the subject by watching the rest of the movie.

* * *

Although she returned to her cabin, the chronometer gave away the early hour, and she sighed, knowing she would never be able to sleep. Sitting down at her desk, she fiddled with the pile of data chips ready for her inspection resting next to her console. She picked up one in particular.

Somebody had shoved this disk into her hand on the landing pad of Starfleet Command, and at the time she assumed it came from her friend Jimmy. He'd promised to send her pictures of the ruffians who demanded information about her, and at the time she thought that's what was on this disk, but he always sent a brief note verifying the contents of anything he sent her. He hadn't sent her information about the disk she held in her hands, and until she received confirmation, she was reluctant to view the contents. The waiting was frustrating.

Vowing to lay her tensions to rest, she changed quickly into loose pants and a tee shirt, and went to the gym. After sticking the buds in her ears, she turned on some music, a low thumping rhythm, and set a pace on the treadmill.

Leon followed her and sat on the control panel, occasionally stretching out a paw to catch the bouncing cords that ran from her ear to the tiny device at her waistband. He heard the announcement over the intercom, and hopped down to spin around in circles, watching his mistress. Noticing his odd behavior, Andie pulled the audio buds from her ear and he ran over to the com panel. Stepping off the treadmill, she touched the button and called Sickbay.

"This is Andie," she panted slightly. "Did you call me?"

"Yes, ma'am. You're needed in Sickbay." It was a female voice, Corporal Parsons, she thought.

"I'm on my way." Without further ado, she and the cat trotted easily through the corridors, catching a lift to the familiar sterile room, using her slower pace to service as a cooling down period for her run.

There was quite a conflagration when she arrived. Mayweather and Bowman had sustained what looked like minor cuts, and Ensign Black and Corporal Finn were trying to restrain two crewmen who continued to wrestle, ignoring the outraged screeches of the creatures in their cages.

Andie slipped through the door and stepped right into the middle of the fighting men. "This is my room!" She held up her hands to deflect the fists flying through the air, and at the sight of her, both men took a step back. "You will cease and desist!"

"He started it!" The older man shouted with an accusing finger.

"I did not!" replied the younger man. They moved toward each other to continue their combat.

"Cooper and Nichols, I presume?" she queried of the female MACO who stood at the edge of the dissent. "Their infamy has outreached even mine." Cooper shoved forward with one hand threatening his nemesis, and Andie caught his wrist securely. One quick turn and the heavy man hit the ground with a grunt, kneeling to prevent the dislocation of his wrist from his arm. Parsons stepped in and kicked the knees out from under Nichol, dropping him into a similar position. With a curt tone she indicated that they should remain on their knees with their hands on their head and their ankles crossed to prevent them from further harm.

"If either of you so much as twitches, I'll make you my bitches in ways you can't even imagine," Andie threatened. "Don't make me get unpleasant!"

They remained on the floor, glaring at each other. The handheld scanner proved that their injuries were painful but not life-threatening, so she left them there and moved toward the other injured parties instead.

She reached for Bowman first. He had a cut over his eye. "How you doing, Henry?" she asked, waving a scanner over his form.

"It's my first bar fight, Doc!" he told her excitedly, a far cry different than the nervous young man who'd wandered in complaining of phantom pains when she first arrived.

"Well, since you've gone through Starfleet training, I think you're overdue," she told him, smearing a gel on the wound and applying two adhesive stitches to the cut. "That probably won't leave a scar."

"Are you sure?" She smirked at his disappointment even as she applied a hypo sprain for the discomfort.

"I can hit you again, and make sure there's a mark," Andie offered.

"No," he refuted sadly. "It wouldn't be the same."

Mayweather's lower lip was swelling on one side. "One minute they were playing cards; the next they were flying over the table," he told her, shaking his head. "They knocked the bottle against my lip."

Andie applied a small amount of anesthetic gel to his lip. "You'll live," she assured him. "You and Henry are free to go. Call if there are any more symptoms."

Travis gently chucked Bowman on the shoulder as they wandered out the double doors. "You know, Ensign, the first rule in a bar fight is to duck when a chair comes flying at your head," the navigator teased gently.

New people entered as the two ensigns exited. Doctor Andie waved a scanner over Finn and Parsons and the newly present Woods, ignoring their protests that they were fine. "Commando's always ignore the pain!" she scolded them, but the scanner backed up their claims. "You guys better get that room cleaned up," she released them. "Make sure all the cigars are accounted for and extinguished!" They left.

That left one other man besides the profusely bleeding pair still kneeling on the floor.

"I thought you were going to turn in," Malcolm watched her carefully, noting her running attire.

"I thought I was," she answered lightly, helping the older man off the floor first. "Up you go, Cooper."

"Are you sure you're mentally acute enough to administer medicine?" He was trying for solicitous, but the idea that she'd scrambled out of that room on his account made him nervous.

"I only had one beer," she told him dryly. "I think I'll be fine." It figures that the tactical officer would still be following her around, questioning her motives and capabilities. She brooded that she might never earn the smallest amount of respect from him.

"You're not just going to leave Nichols there, are you?" He pointed to the man still on his knees.

"Yes, I am."

"You can't do that! It's not appropriate!"

"Sure I can," she disagreed. "He's quiet down there."

Malcolm glared.

"Fine, but you better keep an eye on him." She scanned Cooper's injuries and began applying gels and creams to the cuts and bruises. Malcolm helped Nichols to an adjoining bio-bed and warned him with a glare to remain silent.

Andie continued to work with a firm hand, shushing both men when they seemed intent on antagonizing one another, and ignoring Malcolm. Finally she released them, declaring their injuries were not severe, and directing both to bed rest for a couple of days. Malcolm interjected, and signaled Curly to escort both men to the brig for the remainder of the night.

"A guard will check on their condition," he promised her.

"Fine," she agreed testily. "Offer them blankets and pillows," she demanded.

"It's a brig, not summer camp!" he replied in similar irritable temper.

"Golly, I think I made a mistake in their diagnosis!" Andie gasped with exaggeratedly wide eyes. "I think they'll have to spend the night here!" She narrowed her eyes at Reed. "Under guard... In an unsecured ward... Full of sharp objects and things."

He closed his eyes. "Fine! I'll make sure they're warm and comfortable. Shall we extend them a breakfast menu in the morning?" His sarcasm was as sharp as ever. "Perhaps caviar and champagne?"

"Nope!" she cheered up instantly. "Gruel and water will be sufficient. Just let me know before the floggings begin. I'd like a front row seat!"

Shooting a dark glare in her direction, Reed left the room with his prisoners. His concentration was diverted as he wondered whether or not she was actually mad at him. Sometimes women were so hard to read.

* * *

Archer was still working when the notice came through that Cooper and Nichols were once again in trouble for fighting with one another. He sighed. Something would have to be done about them. Nichols worked on the science team, and Cooper was a maintenance worker on the engineering team. They didn't have much to do with one another, but every time they were in the same room, they bared their teeth and went after one another like cats and dogs.

Thinking of his dog cuddled with that orange cat, Archer thought he might have to amend that statement, but he was too tired now to think of a better analogy. He shut off his monitor and prepared to go to his cabin to sleep.

"Captain?" Ensign Carter sent a transmission from the bridge where she was at the communications station. "That ship has returned. It's hovering on our periphery as before."

"I'll be right there." He stood and stretched and passed through the short corridor that connected his Ready Room to the Bridge. The gamma shift shuffled in their seats. They were mostly green recruits, fresh from Starfleet training. Ensign Stevens turned from her position at the helm, and Ensign Behr watched him from tactical. Ensign Caffrey was the highest ranking crewmember on board, and she watched the view screen with wide eyes.

"Is it doing anything strange?" he asked the room at large.

"No, sir," Caffrey responded. She was less intimidated speaking to the captain of the ship than the others, but that wasn't saying much. "It hasn't scanned us or returned our hails. It just popped up to have a look, I guess."

"Sir," Stevens piped up. "This ship appears to have left our scanning range."

Once again the mysterious vessel had disappeared.

"Change course, Ensign," Archer told her. "Try and get us closer to the ship. I don't like being watched without knowing who's watching. But don't make it look like we're hunting them. Try and fly...casual," he finished lamely.

"Yes, sir," she replied, pressing buttons to shift the direction of the ship.

"Shall I call for tactical alert, sir?" Behr's hand hovered anxiously over the red button.

"Not now, Ensign," Archer replied, thinking that Malcolm would have asked the same question, but found a way to hide his eagerness to join a fight. "Let's wait and find out if they're hostile first."

Two years ago that course of action would have been sufficient in his mind. After the war in the Expanse, he wondered if he was making the wrong call. Maybe they should attack first and ask questions later.

Sometimes aliens were so hard to read.


	37. Chapter 37

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 37

Author's Note: Occasionally I've made up some alien words. If they bear any resemblance to any human languages, that's just a coincidence. To the surprise of nobody who knows me, they're usually all curses! ;)

* * *

Three full days had passed since the mysterious ship had first appeared on their scanners. It had hovered on the outskirts of the sensors that first day, popping up and then moving away. After two days of empty sensor readings, the crew thought the ship might have disappeared entirely.

Those hopes were dashed on the morning of the fourth day. The small ship darted into full view on an intercept course with _Enterprise_, followed closely by a larger vessel armed with cannons and firing at the severely overwhelmed little vessel.

All members of the bridge crew remained tense as Archer studied the incoming data as it appeared on the main view screen.

"The vessel won't be able to withstand the attack much longer," Malcolm prompted the captain.

Archer didn't like puzzles. Puzzles usually got him in trouble and put his ship in danger. This small ship was a puzzle. But there was no way he was going to allow one ship to be destroyed by a larger, more heavily armed vessel. He disliked bullies even more than he disliked puzzles.

"Hail the attacker, Hoshi," he commanded, pacing back and forth in front of the captain's chair.

"They're not responding, Captain," she reported in a moment. "I believe they are receiving; they just aren't answering." She exchanged looks with Mayweather while waiting for the final decision.

Jon sighed. "Lock phase cannons on the aggressor, Malcolm." He turned a stern eye on the armory officer. "Disable their weapons."

"Aye, aye, sir," Reed responded, flicking a few buttons on his console.

* * *

Phlox stood rubbing the potting soil from his hands in the greenhouse. Glancing furtively over one shoulder to make sure nobody was watching he licked the dirt from one palm. Eyes closed to fully experience the tangy woodsy flavor rendered him unaware of his colleague standing behind him until she spoke.

"They're looking good, Phlox." She meant the Denobulan orchids that he'd just potted. He had also added some of his native lilies and they nestled in a flatbed just next to the other. Tucked into a dim corner, they would not receive the full impact of the light, but would flourish here in damp earth and warm temperatures. Phlox smiled, not one of his extended smiles, but one of pleasure nonetheless.

"It will be nice to have a spot of earth to call home again," he commented, rocking back and forth on his heels as he often did. "I grew them to maturity in an isolated chamber, and they should be blooming shortly. Denobulan orchids only blossom once a year and it will be a shame if you missed it."

Andie beamed at the doctor. She was happy that he was so pleased. She was touched at his enthusiasm to share his culture with her. Despite his warm demeanor and his fondness for company, she believed many of the crew still kept their distance from the alien doctor.

Jojo made a rare appearance outside of her quarters by hopping up on the table and rubbing her gray face against a green stem. Phlox made sure to pat her on the head carefully. She suffered through his ministrations by squeezing her golden eyes closed and purring contentedly. Chewing idly on the short mint grasses that Andie grew specifically for the cats to munch, she noticed the new items on the workbench and unobtrusively wandered over to have a look at the white orchid blossoms. Tiny sharp teeth prepared to bite into this new delicacy when the Denobulan's blue eyes noticed. Hands swept down out of nowhere, startling the gray cat who jumped awkwardly to one side, knocking a small pot to the floor as she fled back to the safety of her cabin.

"I'm so sorry, Phlox," Andie stopped chasing the cat and knelt down to right the container that had turned over. Gentle hands patted the dirt back into place and lightly brushed over the leaves to ensure that damage was minimal. Phlox waved away her protests and checked and rechecked the new plants.

"I was once an award-winning botanist on my planet. I took home the top prize for my orchids," Phlox boasted quietly. "I'm sure I'll manage a little spilled dirt."

Andie smiled. "We are privileged to have such fine specimens...aboard...this...ACHOO!" The sneeze came out of nowhere, and it was a humdinger. Absently she rubbed her nose on the shoulder of her scrubs. Phlox looked concerned.

"I'm fine," she headed off his worries. "It's just a little...du-CHOO!" The second sneeze was larger than the first, if that was possible. "Crap!" she muttered.

The older doctor wasted no time in whipping out a medical scanner and performing a preliminary test. He frowned at the readings, and dragged her back to Sickbay for a more comprehensive reading. He had the diagnosis momentarily.

"Allergic?" Andie's heart sank. "To your orchids? That sucks." She pouted briefly a moment. "Isn't there something you can give me...?" she hinted.

Phlox smiled stiffly. "It is no trouble to unearth the plants. You'll want to spend a lot of time in the greenhouse, and I wouldn't want you to..."

"Nonsense," she waved away his suggestion. "We can have award-winning orchids, and I can get a hypo-spray of some kind."

Phlox set to work, relieved. "Never fear. We'll find something." He bustled about with tubes and chemicals, and nearly took a tumble when the ship shook rather violently.

"All hands brace for impact!" The call sounded over all the intercom panels on board just a second too late.

"Thanks for the timely message!" Andie shouted futilely at the speaker across the room, knowing that nobody would hear her unless she pressed the button. She rubbed the hip that had broken her fall by landing against a nearby bio-bed.

"We'd better prepare for casualties," she advised Phlox, who continued to putter with his chemicals while she pulled first aid kits out of a drawer.

* * *

"Fire!" Captain Archer barked.

Lieutenant Reed complied, firing forward phase cannons at the larger craft. He scored a direct hit against their hull, where he believed he'd find their main power source. Sure enough, plasma vented into the atmosphere and one of their engines appeared to burn out.

The larger ship took to warp and sped away. Not, Malcolm noted with satisfaction, nearly as fast as they'd arrived however.

Mayweather glanced back at the captain, who shook his head. There was no need to follow them, especially since the smaller ship needed repairs from the attack they'd just sustained. Vents of smoke spewed from the dual turbo engines that propelled them.

Hoshi piped up. "Receiving a hail, Captain," she told him.

"On screen," he grunted, thinking the courtesy was overdue. He straightened his uniform and offered the customary introductions, pacing anxiously as he waited for the forthcoming explanation.

The face of a battle-hardened man appeared on the large view screen. "Thanks a lot!" he effused. "That was a close call!" Muscles rippled under a black vest, covered but not hidden by the short sleeves of his undershirt.

"Do you know why they were attacking you?" Archer asked. He was surprised that the captain spoke English, and appeared to be human, although the bright blue hair and azure tint to the edges of his skin told a different tale.

"I don't know. We're running medical supplies to a mining colony nearby. Maybe they don't want the miner's getting healthy." The man's blue eyes darkened and his freckled face was deadly serious. "We have some medical problems over here. You wouldn't happen to have a doctor on board, now, would you?"

Archer thought a moment. "We can offer you medical treatment. How's your ship after the attack?"

"Could use a fine-tuning, I bet," the man chuckled. Behind him a vent of steam shot through the air on the murky bridge of the transport vessel. Mayweather raised an eyebrow. It seemed to be in need of more than a 'fine-tuning.'

"We're glad to help," Archer assured him, and directed him to the starboard docking port. "It's nearest our Sickbay."

He frowned long after the image was deleted from his screen. Why would such a personable alien hide his presence from Archer for several days? Grudgingly he granted to himself that they must be under a deadline to meet with the mining colony.

Nodding at Reed, and giving command to T'Pol, the two men wandered down to the airlock to meet their newest guests, calling for a doctor and a security team as they went.

* * *

Doctor Andie joined the congregation in the corridor, including Mayweather and Tucker, both holding repair kits. The familiar clangs and bangs of a ship attaching itself to the outside of the hull were heard, and the hiss of the pressure seal was loud in the quiet hall.

"What kind of pirates are we picking up today?" Andie grinned, smiling at Archer as she dropped her own kit on the ground at her feet.

"No pirates," Jon corrected her, "Just a freighter called the _Jaynie Blue_."

Malcolm caught her reaction out of the corner of his eyes. Andie paled and froze. He had never realized how much she fidgeted all day until she was completely devoid of movement.

The door lock was released with a grinding creak, and several men from the other ship stepped through a thin gray smoke into the clean air of the _Enterprise_. The blue-haired captain stepped through first, followed by an even larger alien, who looked as though he shared some DNA with lizards.

Andie gasped. "Great Bird in the Sky!" she breathed.

"Son of a bitch!" yelped the man who'd appeared on the view screen earlier.

"Holy crap!" Andie murmured again, still stunned.

"I think they know the same language," Travis whispered to Trip with a grin.

The man stepped forward suddenly, causing Malcolm to reach for his phase pistol. The ragged man tangled one hand in the hair at Andie's neck, the other hand fastened on her backside and he pulled her close, kissing her deeply and provocatively, heedless of the audience.

"I think they know more than each other's language," Trip announced, still shocked and amused.

The kissing went on. Andie pushed a hand against his shoulder and squeaked.

Archer cleared his throat pointedly. There was still more kissing. She struggled a little harder.

Just inside the airlock, a couple of rough looking men snickered indelicately at the scene before them. "You might want to let her breathe, Jase," the burly bald lizard-like creature mentioned mildly, as though he's seen this before. The greasy creature next to him leered.

The man in the black vest grunted somewhat painfully as Andie's knee connected with his groin. He released her and she stepped back, her eyes blazing in her suddenly pale face. Without warning her fist connected solidly with his face and drove his head back to clang noisily against the bulkhead.

"_Naneckto ghandti, pormagt_!" she hissed furiously in a language that wasn't English.

Jase pulled his hand from his bloody nose. "Damnit, Dräe!" he cursed, reaching a hand out for her, unsteady on his feet from the knee she'd sent his direction.

Scooting back fearfully, she instinctively stepped closer to Malcolm who had pulled his phase pistol and was aiming at the blue man. Her face had regained some of its color as two bright spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. It wasn't embarrassment that fueled them though; it was definitely anger. "Get away from me you bastard!"

"Heh! Heh!" The lizard-like humanoid behind him laughed with rusty uncertainty, as though he didn't laugh often. "I think she remembers you better'n you remember her! She don't like to be touched!"

"Not without permission," she growled, spitting on the ground as though to remove the taste.

"You've met?" Archer asked, stepping closer. _The puzzle got bigger,_ he thought.

"We're old...friends," the freighter captain smirked, making them sound like more than friends.

"We used to date," Andie offered reluctantly when Archer continued to glare at her. "It didn't end well." She glared at the second man. "I thought you woulda dumped this _tralc_ and taken command of your own vessel by now, Duomo."

Duomo, the lizard-like creature, shrugged. "You know I don't like to be the boss. Too much attention." He studied her as though she smelled bad. "You're wearing a uniform?" he asked incredulously, staring at the Starfleet patch on her shoulder.

"Barely," Malcolm muttered through gritted teeth. His eyes glinted at the disruption the newcomers had caused. Trip and Mayweather stood quietly off to one side, watching the proceedings. Archer indicated with one hand that Malcolm should put his gun away, which the sharp-eyed man did reluctantly.

Andie straightened her light blue scrubs and wiped her bruised lips. "What are you doing here, Jase?" she scowled. She drew a deep breath and noticed the others watching her. Her face flushed when she noticed Malcolm still fingering his weapon. "I see you've met the captain?" she inquired to the room in general.

Names were exchanged when Archer stepped forward and offered a handshake, still puzzling over the behavior of the two strangers. Captain Jason Blau introduced his first officer, Duomo, the big bald creature with leathery features who'd cautioned his friend to stop kissing the girl. Duomo actually had scales running down the back of his neck. Boner was dark haired and surly, which might be due to the bloody wound on his shoulder, or might just be the impression from the horns that grew out of his forehead, and Toady, a lanky frog-like man who sleazed into the room smelling of grease and smoke, limping due to a gaping wound on his thigh.

"I've offered medical attention and repairs for their ship," Archer told the doctor. "This won't be a problem, will it?" He studied the problematic physician carefully.

"I don't know," she counted, fixing Jase with a fierce look. "Will it be a problem?"

"No worries, Dräe," he grinned easily, ignoring the less than hospitable way he was greeted by his old flame.

Archer was still watching her. "Sickbay's that way," she nodded with her head. She waited until Boner and Toady helped each other hobble around the corner, Jase and Duomo following at a more leisurely pace, escorted by Crewmen Moreno and Martin from security.

"Andie?" Archer questioned.

They all seemed to be looking at her. With good reason, she thought. Her past just stepped up to give them all a boot in the ass. _This was not going to end well_, she reflected.

"We don't get along," she told him carefully, mindful of her promise not to lie to him. "If you could get them moving quickly, that would be helpful."

"Is this a problem?" Malcolm eyed her. He could see she was still shaking, and Malcolm didn't trust a man who would take advantage of a woman, even if he didn't care for the woman himself.

Ignoring him instead of answering, she turned to Archer. "What did they say they were transporting?" The creases at the edge of her mouth deepened with concern.

"Medical supplies to a mining colony," he answered.

"You should probably let the colony know they'll be a little late," she answered distantly. Forcing her feet to move, she took steps to lead her back to her workspace.

"You okay?" Trip stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and a worried look as she passed.

"Yeah," she answered, not at all convincingly. "They probably just need to flush the plasma conduits. They never remember to do that." She pulled away from his touch and wandered through the corridor and around a corner.

The four men looked at each other with expressions of shock on their faces.

"Let's get them out of here quickly, Trip," Archer suggested pointedly.

"Right, Cap'n," the engineer agreed. He picked up his tool kit and dragged Travis into the smoky interior behind him.

"Permission to post..."

"Granted," Archer agreed, not waiting for Reed to finish requesting extra security. He looked at Reed. "That was odd, right? I haven't always had a good relationship with my ex-es when we broke up, but that was odd, right?"

"That was very odd," Malcolm agreed. He followed the former parties around the corner to Sickbay, pausing only to call more security personnel.

* * *

"So you used to shag the captain?" Boner asked with a leer as she entered the room at a brisk pace.

Andie smiled coolly. "It was a long time ago," she explained shortly. "I was young. Jase wasn't old then," she added with glare at the blue haired man.

Jase wrinkled his nose and smirked. "Speak for yourself, Uni," he retorted, still disturbed by the Starfleet patch on her arm. "I'll never get older!" he vowed. Blue eyes watched intently as the woman directed the newcomers into the medical lab and gave orders to the med-techs in the treatment of the wounds. If he was bothered that she didn't ask him what he'd been up to, he didn't show it.

Phlox hurried through the double doors. "I heard we had visitors. I hope it isn't too serious?" he inquired politely as he moved to take a look at the patients, pausing to administer a hypo to Andie's neck. She nodded her thanks absentmindedly, and he chose his first patient.

Toady recoiled at the Denobulan doctor. "What the hell is that thing?" he squeaked, backing up and causing undue stress on the newly opened gash in his leg.

"That 'thing' is the most competent doctor you'll ever get near. Show him some respect, Jackass!" The anger was evident in Andie's voice. Her temper was running rather hot due to the unexpected surprise of old acquaintances and she jumped from neutral to irate in seconds.

"He ain't treating me!" Toad spouted. He wriggled away from Andie's touch, and Phlox had to restrain her from moving in on the alien.

"It's all right," Phlox soothed. His voice was neutral, but his eyes were overbright. "He may feel more comfortable with another doctor." He scratched absently at his forearm.

"It's not all right," Andie gritted. Recognizing Phlox's need to soothe the situation, she said no more but moved over the greasy man, and picked up a small jar of salve and applied it determinedly to the wound. Toady hissed.

"That hurts!" he wailed.

Andie smiled coldly but replied in a falsely sweet tone. "I'm sorry. Phlox is the one with the tender touch. You'd probably have been happier with his treatment than mine. Ah, well! Lost opportunities!" she smirked and considered adding an extra saline ingredient before administering the hypo-spray. She may have chosen the high road, but Toad complained that it burned. Andie told him it probably wouldn't kill him while her eyes glittered with wrath.

The corner of the blue-haired man's mouth curled up at her spunk. "Still haven't changed, have you? Defending the weak at all costs?" he mused. "Jaynie would've been proud." He grunted as an ice pack was slapped into his hand to be applied to his nether regions, still smarting from a solid knee.

"Jaynie would've kicked your butt for hooking up with a creep like that!" Andie was still miffed as she moved to tend to his wounds, but the mention of the dearly departed sobered her. "How long has it been?"

Mentally adding up the time he'd lived without his cherished little sister brought out grim lines on his hardened face. "Twelve years," Jase answered. Feeling the familiar closing of his throat as he remembered the life cut short far too soon, he cleared his throat and covered his pain with calloused precision. "She was a sucker for the bleeding heart."

"You must have inherited some of that if you're transporting medical supplies to a mining colony," Andie mentioned quietly. She fastened a bandage to the cut above his eye and stepped back. Her dark eyes watched him carefully.

Jase shrugged, refusing to squirm under her glare. "I miss her sometimes, that's all. At least I've got Hell to keep me company."

Andie froze. "You've still got Hell on your side?" she asked.

Jase grinned wickedly. "Yeah," he agreed. Suddenly the smile wiped off his face. He remembered the men who'd offered to give his ship the once over. "Crap!"

"Damn it, Jase!" she cursed, turning and running for the door. She didn't wait to see if he was following.

* * *

Mayweather and Trip made their way inside the smaller vessel and began running scans on the internal workings. A thin gray haze hovered stubbornly in the air, making Travis's eyes water and Trip's lung to try and forcefully evacuate the foreign substance.

The small vessel had only two decks. They stood in the open cargo hold, and small rooms on either side housed the Sickbay and the galley. The bridge was located on the second level, directly ahead of them, and doors along the catwalk indicated living quarters were housed up there as well. Each turbo engine was powered from its own small room at the rear of the ship, close to where they stood.

Surrounded by crates that had been secured to the floor, Trip winced at the stale air as he tried to take a deep breath. "I can't believe they cart medical supplies in this smog," he muttered to Travis. "Phlox and Andie get plenty ticked off when their scanners get the slightest bit filthy. They say it knocks them offline. Did you hear how she badgered Rostov about the imaging chamber?"

Travis agreed with wide eyes. "Growing up on a freighter, we carried some stinky cargo, but the smell never felt...tangible," he added, wrinkling his nose.

Trip stepped over inspect a control panel. One of the buttons was permanently pressed down, surrounded by so much gunk it would never rise again. "This whole ship, engines and all, could almost fit inside one of the cargo bays. This shouldn't take too long." He sighed. "I'll take the engine on the right; you take the one on the left."

"I'll try and find a diagnostic program," Travis told him. The young man wandered into the narrow room, trying not to touch anything.

Both men were revolted at the appearance of the ship. Everything was dirty and in disarray. Despite the fact that four grown men lived on this ship, it was cluttered and unkempt. Even the main power consoles were grimy. Both men knew that ignoring the maintenance on a ship could mean the end of its usefulness, and were appalled at the state of the ship. Both hurried through their work, hoping to race back to the cleanliness of _Enterprise_.

On the starboard side, Trip lay on his back, adjusting a power coupler under the main engine core. He heard a distant clacking and wondered what else was broken. He was disgusted by this vessel and couldn't wait to return home. The warp core rumbled.

It was a funny sound. Yet somehow it was strangely familiar.

Trip pulled his head out from under the engine. He found his wide eyes looking into the gaping maw of Hell.

* * *

Andie's black booted feet raced through the corridor. She slipped through the airlock docking portal, and followed the noise to the engine room with certain feet. She saw Trip on the far side of the room, cut off by the cylinder of the machine and scrambled up the side of its curved surface nearest her, using levers and bolts as a ladder. Sliding across the engine on her hip, she eased her body down on the other side and landed in a crouch right in front of Trip who was knocked over on his backside.

Holding out a hand she spoke in a foreign tongue. "_Danketh, illspawn. Ponvez en ick_."

Hell stopped moving. Yellow fangs so large he couldn't even close his mouth glistened with saliva. Stubs of cartilage rose out of his back in an unevenridge. His stiff backside shook where a tail had once grown, yet still he glowered out of his one good eye. Scars from a multitude of battles disfigured his black coat. Half of his head was covered in a silver metal plate that extended over one eye and an ear and a rich noxious smell exuded from it. He looked every inch the bloodthirsty pirate defending his lair.

"Sit down, Hellspawn," Andie coaxed in that soothing voice. Without looking behind her, she sensed Trip's movement. "If you so much as touch that tool, we're both dead," she mentioned in the same soothing tone she was using to speak to the dog. In fact, she never took her eyes off the canine. Hell growled in acknowledgment.

Trip's hand moved slowly away from the large wrench at his fingertips.

Jase finally wandered into the room. "Get down, boy," he told his guard off-handedly. Obediently Hellspawn sat back on his haunches, drooling malevolently and panting.

"You took your time!" Andie scowled at her old friend.

"I'm injured," he grinned and pointed at the scratch on his forehead. Andie rolled her eyes.

"Lock Hell up if you want any more help," she snapped. Finally she looked over her shoulder at the engineer. "You okay?" she asked.

"Sure," he panted, eyeing the creature distrustfully. "What the hell is that?"

"My first patient," Andie told him curtly. Finally the gruesome creature leaned toward her so she could scratch at the mangy fur next to his silver cap.

"You always had a way with wild things, Dräe," Jase snorted and tapped his thigh. The dog followed reluctantly after him.

"I stitched him up after he lost a battle with a landmine and gave him the tin hat." Andie told Trip as she leaned against the engine core and brushed a shaky hand over her face.

"I don't think he remembers you," Trip tried to joke, despite his pounding heart.

"I think he does," Andie answered soberly. "We're still breathing." She sighed. "You should be okay now." She turned to go.

Trip called her name and she stopped. "Is this guy really a friend of yours?" he asked, a line of concern creasing his forehead.

For a long moment she looked not at Trip, but through him, as though she was reliving every single moment in her head. "It was a long time ago." Her mouth tightened. "I'm...I'm not really sure why he's here." Her eyes clouded.

"He doesn't really seem like your type." Trip wondered if that was true. He wasn't sure he knew what her type was, but surely she couldn't be so clean in her own Sickbay and attracted to a man who lived like...this. He glared at a gob of grease that had landed on his pants.

A cynical glint hardened her features. She sneered lightly. "He seems like the kind of guy who'd add adhesive to your plasma regulators without telling you, so that when you start up your engine, the plasma would superheat and blow out your conduits, doesn't he?" she mused acerbically.

Trip blanched. "You'd be cleaning up the mess for weeks, if it didn't destroy the whole ship!" Now he eyed the machine in front of him nervously, wondering if he should check the intake valves before running tests.

Glancing at the engine before them, Andie sniffed. "Good luck with that!" she offered perkily. He tossed her a dirty look and she smiled. "Don't worry too much about this ship," she told him. "Just get them running and get them on their way, okay?"

"Sure," he agreed carefully.

Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she smiled a shaky smile. "I have to get back to work," she told him and slipped out the door.

* * *

Boner glanced up at Ensign Cutler, who was restocking the medical supplies that had been used this afternoon. She cut a nice figure for a guy who'd been out in space for a while. He scooted off the bio-bed and shrugged at Toady. Toady leered a greasy grin and stood uncertainly on his injured leg, leaving the room to his pal and the unsuspecting girl. His leave was particularly easy since security had followed the running doctor and her blue companion as they left in a hurry.

Boner, who'd received his nickname from a succession of broken bones in his childhood, had spent most of his life living up to the misnomer. His dark hair and eyes, coupled with an easy grin had won the hearts of his share of the ladies, but their acceptance of his charms was not always a prerequisite.

Moving quietly, Liz didn't even hear him until he was right behind her. "Hey," he smarmed, grinning at her gasp. "My shoulder is killing me. Do you think you could get me some more meds?" he wheedled, opening his eyes wide to appear helpless.

"I think you've had plenty of meds for the time being," Liz replied dryly.

"I sure hurt somethin' awful," he crooned. One dirty finger reached out to touch Liz lightly on the arm. She resisted the urge to shudder. The horns kind of freaked her out.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she told him and stepped around his body to walk to the other side of the room, thankful to have breathing room that didn't smell like his wretched odor.

Boner's grin slipped. He turned slowly and cut the distance between him and his prey. "You're fine enough for both of us," he tried again, showing several yellowed teeth in an effort to win her over.

Liz looked him up and down. "You're not my type," she assured him and made to move around him again.

He caught her arm in his hard grip. "You'll be my type now!" he growled. Shoving her backward, he pressed against her, driving her hips against the table and giving her a bruise that would show up darkly later. He bent to kiss her lips, but she turned her head. He caught her neck in his tight grip and prepared to force her mouth to kiss him.

"Get your hands off of her and step away with your hands in the air!" The command was spoken in crisp British tones and Boner turned to find the wiry dark-haired man from the airlock holding a phase pistol at his chest.

"You think you're gonna make me, mate?" Boner challenged, stepping forward slightly, eager for the altercation. The only thing he liked better than women was fighting.

"I think somebody might make you," added another voice. "Although it might be me." Andie stepped into Sickbay, her fists planted on her hips and her generous mouth a thin line. Things were happening too quickly today.

"I ain't afraid of you, Red," Boner growled. "Jase may still have a hard-on for you, but you ain't got nothin' I want!"

"Oh, I have something you want all right," Andie promised. She idly waved a hypo spray around. "Let her go," she commanded sternly.

"Do it!" Jase appeared in the doorway looking thunderously mad, and he barked an order at his crewman. Reluctantly, Boner let go of Crewman Cutler's arm.

"I'll have you thrown in the brig!" Malcolm promised, never taking his eyes from the sour faced man.

Andie spoke quietly to Malcolm. "I'll take care of this, Lieutenant. Why don't you escort Cutler to the Mess Hall for a cup of tea?"

Reed would have denied the request and remained, hoping he might still shoot Andie's friends, but Liz nearly jumped across the circle at him. "Yes, thank you, Lieutenant!" Her relief at leaving _Enterprise'_s guests was palpable.

Straightening his shoulders, Malcolm led the woman out the double doors, giving Andie a dour look as he went. That left the three of them alone.

Jase stood with his mouth agape. The girl he remembered wasn't calm. She never asked anyone else to take care of her problems and she never backed down. He wondered if he had been wrong about her all this time. Maybe she had changed.

Andie picked up a medical scanner and took a reading of Boner's shoulder. "Your nerves aren't registering extreme pain," she noted. "I'm not sure you need extra meds at this time."

Boner opened his mouth to object and whine about how his arm hurt, and he wasn't paying attention. He never saw the quick turn or the flying fist until the raw wound in his shoulder exploded in a blinding eruption of pain. He screamed and grabbed at his arm as he fell to his knees. Andie spun on one heel and her booted foot crushed both the fingers and the injury when she kicked him. Boner screamed again.

Andie waved a medical scanner over the shoulder. "_Now _it's registering sufficient nerve excitation." She filled a hypo and stood over the moaning man. "There're only two people on board this vessel who can prescribe medications," Andie spoke quietly. "Phlox and myself. And if you ever lay a hand on Phlox, you'll spend the rest of your life without it." Her eyes were so dark with rage it was like looking into outer space. She leaned closer. "If you lay anything else on any crewmember, you'll be missing that too." That last threat sounded cheery, as though nothing else would give her as much pleasure as taking him apart piece by piece. Finally she pressed the button to relieve his misery even as he shrank away from her.

When she turned to leave she found her old friend grinning. This was the girl he remembered, he thought. "I'll keep him in line," Jase promised, eyeing her approvingly. "I know you like Denobulans. Still think they're some sort of good luck charm?"

Andie looked hard at the man she used to know. "Did you know Hell was loose when you sent my crewmen to look at your ship?" she asked quietly.

"Dräe," Jase's patronizing tone grated on her nerves. "I just wanted to get my guys to Sickbay."

"Did you know?" she insisted on an answer, advancing on him unmindful of the greasy little man who scurried out the door.

"Listen to your self," his voice expressed his disgust. "You're talking about crew and safety protocols. That's not the way I remember you."

"Maybe you're remembering wrong!" Her lower lip jutted out stubbornly.

"Maybe I remember you better than you do," he offered as a counter.

"I doubt that's possible." Andie shot him a dirty look before sweeping out of Sickbay.


	38. Chapter 38

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 38

* * *

She would have run far away from the medical lab, except that she finally noticed the security detail was missing. Instead she stopped and leaned against a bulkhead, drawing deep breaths of air, trying to will away the knot in her stomach.

_He wasn't supposed to be here_, she thought. _He was going to ruin everything._

Speaking of ruin, Jase poked his head out and noticed her waiting in the corridor. "Is there any chance of getting some lunch?" he asked brightly, paying no attention to the fact that she hated him.

"What happened to your crew?" she asked, rudely disregarding his request.

"They're around," he waved one hand vaguely through the air.

"Perhaps they'd like to meet us in the Mess Hall," she told him firmly. It wasn't really a request. She was demanding that he account for their whereabouts.

"Trying to round us up, huh?" he asked easily, although his expression was much less open.

"You've been here less than an hour and you've assaulted two of my crew."

"You've assaulted two of my crew all by yourself," he told her.

She eyed his suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" she asked plaintively.

"I needed some medical attention," he smirked, sauntering over with an interested look. "You always give the best...attention." He trailed one finger down her arm, raising goose bumps of flesh.

She was extremely relieved when two MACO guards stepped around the corner. "Where's the rest of your crew, Captain?" Romero asked, standing up straighter to show off his cache of weapons and broad shoulders.

"They're going to meet us in the Mess Hall," Jase answered, flipping open a communicator and speaking in a foreign language. Closing the device he looked at Andie and gestured with his hand. "Shall we?"

He wanted to dine with her. She suppressed the shudder and pushed away from the wall, nodding quickly at Chang, relieved that he was one of the guards.

* * *

"There are no mining or civilian colonies within range of our sensors, Captain," T'Pol confirmed. "There are no inhabited planets. There is an asteroid field a few light years from here, but it is unpopulated. A comet will be passing through this sector although it is unlikely there is a mining colony on the comet."

"Then where were they going with their goods?" Archer asked her, pacing back and forth in his Ready Room.

"I cannot answer that." She waited patiently for orders.

"I know someone who can!" he growled, hitting the button and leaving the room.

Obviously Andie had known that there weren't any miners around, he thought grimly. That's why she told him to send word. It didn't explain what her purpose was in exposing her friends.

As he passed through the bridge, he instructed Ensign Carter to send a message to Admiral Gardiner right away. They needed to have a little conversation about the good doctor.

* * *

Andie and Jase walked to the turbo-lift with the MACO's trailing behind.

"_I should kill you where you stand, Blue_." Andie's tone was carefully conversational.

The MACO's glanced at one another, but they could hardly object. They had no idea what she was saying. She was speaking in an alien language.

"_You won't kill me_," Jase replied, in the same foreign tongue.

"_You sound so sure_."

"_I am. Killing me where I stand would ruin this good girl image you've got going on_."

"_I am a good girl_," she stubbornly insisted.

Jase snorted. "_I know you too well to believe that, Red_."

"_If you knew anything about me, you would never have involved Guiry in our business_!" Her tone chilled and one pair of blue tinted ears nearly received frostbite.

Her former paramour had the good grace to look ashamed before immediately ruining his contrition. "_I knew you could handle yourself_."

Andie stopped moving. Her body was so tense a whisper could break her in half. "_If you ever say that to me again, I'll cut your throat."_

Both MACO's reached for their weapons, understanding her body language if not her words.

"_These Unis can't be all bad if they let you threaten death to their guests_," Jason replied easily. This was going to be much easier than he thought. He stepped into the lift and turned to smile at the girl.

* * *

Malcolm dropped Liz off in the Mess Hall in the care of Hess, who'd stopped for an early lunch before taking her shift on the engineering staff. The voluptuous woman enfolded the petite pale-faced med-tech in a motherly hug, and Malcolm slipped out the door with relief. Weepy women were not his forte.

He ran into Crewman Moreno in the corridor outside.

"I thought you were keeping an eye on our guests?" Malcolm frowned.

Curly gulped. "When the doctor raced back to the ship, I followed her. By the time I returned to Sickbay, they were gone."

"That's what the ship's computers are for," Reed sighed, stepping over to a com panel and requesting the location of the four visitors. He'd been lax in his disciplinary procedures apparently. He made a mental note to institute more drills.

The computer replied that there were no visitors on board.

Malcolm input the request again, carefully making sure he was tapping in the correct keys.

The computer restated that thee were no visitors on board _Enterprise_. The crew complement remained at ninety-four, including one Vulcan and one Denobulan.

Pulling out the communicator that Archer had finally agreed should be standard equipment for all personnel on duty after years of requests, Reed called his security staff.

Neither of his personal security team had a guest in sight. Two of the MACO's he called in were watching both Andie and Captain Blau, and were in fact, coming around the corner right now. Andie looked sour.

"Where is the rest of your crew, Captain?" Malcolm burst out as soon as they drew near.

"They're coming, Big Guy," Jase replied in that perpetually easy manner that grated on the nerves of everyone that was not him.

"My name is Lieutenant Reed," Malcolm gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Sure, Big Guy," Jase replied in that same easy tone. It was hard to miss the triumph at finding a weak spot in the officer's composure. "Excuse me, _Reed_," the alien apologized insincerely. He jerked his head at the door in front of them. "This the kitchen?" he asked, pushing the button and letting himself in.

Malcolm signaled the MACO's to follow him, but detained Andie with a sharp glare. When they were alone, he turned on her. "Where are the others?"

"I don't know, Lieutenant!" she snapped. "I thought you were watching them!" Her body was so tense he thought he could probably snap her in half with little effort.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?" he asked, gentling his tone at her edgy demeanor. She looked frazzled, not an emotion he thought he would associate with her.

She glared at him for a minute. "I need to feed my cats," she told him, a tale he didn't fully believe. "Would you look after them for a moment?" She jerked her thumb toward the strangers.

Reed thought he'd like nothing better than to throw all five of them in the brig. "Go ahead, Doctor. We'll keep an eye on them," he told her.

To his small relief, the large bald lizard fellow appeared around one corner just as Andie departed around the other. Now if he could just round up the others.

* * *

Mayweather finished his repairs on the old-fashioned turbo engine. This side hadn't received as much damage as the other, and he tossed his tools into the kit and prepared to assist Trip on the other side. He'd grown up on cargo ships, and it always amazed him that people would continue to travel so slowly when warp model engines were growing more common every day.

Leaving the small room that housed the engine he had to cross the wide open cargo bay. Crates and boxes littered the room, haphazardly tied to the bulkheads to keep from tipping in transit. This room gave him an uneasy feeling. Travis was fond of ghost stories and this room reminded him of several legends involving haunted ships. There was even a low moan that whispered through the air. He felt like he was being watched.

Pulling a scanner out of his pocket, he trained it on the room at large. As the youngest member of the crew he caught a lot of flack for his flights of fancy, but something about this arrangement didn't sit well with him. Glancing at the pad, he moved to the other engine room at a brisk pace.

Trip lay under the heavy cylinder, grunting as he pulled on a lever, trying to release a bolt that held a panel in place. "All set on the other side?" he panted, glancing at Travis' boots.

Travis crouched down, as though the walls might have ears. "This ship gives me the creeps, Commander. So I took some scans of the cargo bay outside." He hoped he wouldn't be in trouble for overstepping his boundaries.

Pulling his head from under the wretched engine, Trip looked at Travis. "Find anything interesting?" His tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp.

"What cargo did they say they were carrying?" Travis asked, instead of replying outright.

"Medical supplies for a mining colony," Trip responded. His heart pounded in his chest. "Your scans of the cargo bay should be able to confirm that." _This ship _was_ creepy_, he realized.

"It seems there's a signal jamming all frequencies inside their vessel. We can't scan their cargo bay." He watched the commander tense at that statement.

"Help me get this panel back in place," Trip nodded at the metal piece. "I think we need to talk to the captain."

* * *

Andie didn't waste time. She entered her cabin and sent two messages, hoping that her hunch was right or else she just screwed the pooch, as Remi sometimes shouted when in a rage.

The first was to Admiral Gardiner and consisted of three words: Red Code Red.

The other was a short message to Henry Bowman, who should be working in the greenhouse, trying to realign the energy output to include Phlox's newest additions.

She changed out of her heavy boots, slipping on lighter crepe soled shoes, used primarily by medical professionals in hospitals to soften their footfalls, and the last thing she did before returning to her guests was to pull that heavy Klingon blade and its well-oiled sheath and strap it carefully to her calf, using the wide pant leg of her navy blue scrubs to conceal it.

Jason Blau had an agenda. She didn't know what it was, but when he got cocky there was bound to be trouble.

* * *

Archer stepped into the turbo-lift but before he could request a deck, the com panel chirped. "Archer here," he replied shortly. He was already short-tempered because Andie wasn't where he thought she should be and now he had to search for her.

"Captain," T'Pol's voice carried in the small conveyance. "Lieutenant Reed has just informed me that two members of Captain Blau's crew have gone missing. He has assigned extra manpower to look into their disappearances."

"Scan the ship!" Archer barked in irritation. Taking those men aboard had complicated the puzzle. "I don't want strangers wandering unattended on my ship!"

"There is a problem with the sensors on board, Captain." He hated that she remained so calm. "There is no indication of any strangers on board."

"Did they go back to their own ship?" he asked, beginning to feel silly talking to thin air in the turbo-lift. He pushed the button to send him to the bridge.

"Captain," T'Pol's voice grew clearer as the doors opened and Archer stepped into her presence. "Two members of the freighter are dining in the Mess Hall, but the sensors do not indicate a presence of anybody on board except the registered crewmembers."

Hoshi looked up from her panel. "There's another communication for you, Captain," she told them. "Commander Tucker's at the airlock and wishes to speak to you."

"Go ahead, Trip," Archer pushed the button to receive the call while standing over the Vulcan's shoulder.

He listened to the message conveying the secrecy of the cargo. Glancing at the chronometer, he realized that these four people had been aboard less than two hours and they were already wreaking havoc.

"Get off their ship, Trip!" Archer barked. "They're on their way off of ours." He ended communications.

He glared at nothing in particular as he spoke to T'Pol. "They lied about their destination, we can't verify their cargo, and they've disappeared on my ship." His chin stuck out mulishly. "Get them off my ship! Now!"

* * *

Andie slipped into the Mess Hall and watched as Jase and Duomo stuffed their faces with food from the tidy little windows that held edibles all day long. The last time she dined with Jase, she almost didn't live to regret it. She hoped she would have more luck this time.

"Boys," she crooned as she stepped the edge of their table. "Your ship is ready for take-off. If you'll follow me, I'll escort you to the airlock."

Duomo looked at her with sharp eyes, but Jase rested his hand familiarly on her hip. "We haven't had time for dessert, Red," he protested quietly.

"I don't think you'll have the time for dessert if you linger here," she counted. Leaning down she pressed her lips very close to his ear. "Archer knows," she lied convincingly.

The lines that appeared on his face told her that she was right; he was up to something. Tilting his face to hers, he forced a smile. "You're bluffing."

"Seeing you locked up would give me a great deal of satisfaction, something I never really got from you before." That made him mad. "But if you're locked up, you might get chatty with your guard and I can't allow that. It's time for you to go." There was nothing to indicate weakness in her tone, although her stance remained casual, as though she was leaning in for a confidence shared among friends. The threat she implied to Jason was as clear as if she'd said it out loud. Andrea was not someone to be taken lightly.

He chuckled nervously, and signaled Duomo to rise. They headed for the door and the doctor had to wonder why she was playing this game with them; pretending to be the person she'd never thought to be again. There was a part of her that knew the past never stayed buried. It always had a way of rising to the surface. This clean life among these good people had just been a pipe dream; if she hadn't wanted it so badly she might have understood the impossibility of success.

They preceded her outside then waited for Andie to lead them back through the corridors to the airlock door. The MACO's left their position at the table nearby and followed at a respectful distance, until they got to the turbo-lift. It wasn't designed to hold more than a few passengers at a time. Romero stepped in behind Andie, while Chang called for reinforcements on the lower lever, waiting until the doors slid shut before sending the message, hoping to avoid giving away the advancing forces.

"_You didn't used to be the type to play the patsy_," Jase commented in that foreign language. "_Is this what respectability's done to you?"_

Andie's jaw stiffened as she lifted her head defiantly. "Once again, Jase, you have seriously underestimated my resolve." That portion was spoken in plain English.

"_You think you can put on their uniform and be just like them? I know you, Dräe_!" He used the nickname she'd taken on in a much darker time in her life. They stepped out of the lift and walked to the door, unmindful of the armed men that surrounded them.

"_At least I'm doing something_!" She indicated the ship docked outside, the broken down and rusting bucket of bolts that transported them from one useless port to another. _"You live a dangerous and pointless existence where your only concern is pleasing yourself! Jaynie would be horrified to see what her death has done to you!"_ Andie protested.

"_She died because she was weak!"_ Jase hissed. The memory was as painful today as it was when he first lost her and he reacted like a coiled snake striking.

"_Funny,_" Andie's voice was dry and bitter. "_I remember she died because you shot that guard. Badly,"_ she added, just to pile insult on injury. "_Your father would be appalled."_

"_You think your father would be proud of you?"_ Both had abandoned the pretense of cordial interactions and continued to snipe at each other even in the company of several combat MACO's surrounding the airlock door, two of whom escorted Boner through the passage. _"He's been ashamed of you from the day you were born!"_

"_At least I'm not pissing on his grave,"_ she countered _"I make my own choices in this life. You have a choice, too, right here and now. Make the call!"_

Jase knew that pushing her too hard and fast would only make her more obstinate. The key to controlling her was to make her see that her actions were for the best. _"Come with me_," he begged. _"I remember we used to have a good time together!"_ His voice took on that crooning tone that was intended to make her remember several good times indeed.

She shook off his sweet-talk as her cheeks burned. _"I don't remember good times,"_ she growled. _"I can only remember times that were less bad than others."_

Duomo and Boner smirked at one another and stepped obediently through the doors.

His strong jaw tightened. "_You're trying to straddle a line, Dräe. Right now you don't belong in one world or the other. Choose to live your own life."_ He looked at her, the pain and loneliness he felt without her was clear in his gaze, hidden as it was from the two men who stood at attention near the door. _"Come with me, Dräe. Live free with me."_

"I am free," she murmured, unknowingly switching to English. She wasn't very convincing. She was lost in contemplation as she thought about all the things she'd given up to be a member of Starfleet. Sometimes she wondered if she'd sacrificed too much.

Studying her face, he snorted. "You don't even believe that's true. But you know that it could be." His hand cupped her cheek gently for a moment before he stepped onto his own ship. He passed Toady, who leered from his position at the lock on the other side before pressing the buttons to seal off his ship.

* * *

"Doctor, I'd like a word with you." The other security officers dispersed but one had remained as the freighter pulled away from the starship.

She turned around slowly, feeling muscles pinch her neck from the tense day she'd had so far. It was easy to see her bad day wasn't over as Lieutenant Reed glared holes through her.

"If you'll follow me?" He gestured with one hand that she should lead the way. "The captain would like a word."

"They're off the ship," she countered wearily. "Isn't that good enough?"

"I believe he's curious to discover if that's true," Malcolm bit out the words through the unyielding rage that burned in his chest. "It seems that your friends don't register on our sensors."

She stared at him for a moment. Malcolm was furious. That wasn't new, however she usually had a better idea what made him mad than she did at the moment. Shrugging her own shoulders, she preceded him through the corridor to the nearest turbo-lift, turning over Jase's parting comments in her mind.

He was acting like she was going to come running back to him at any moment. Her steps slowed. To be precise, he was acting as if running back to him was a certainty. There was no reason in the world that he should be confident, unless he had some knowledge that she didn't have. Her expression began to darken. She should have been wondering what kind of coincidence brought him back to her doorstep in the first place. Those three strokes of his thumb as he cupped her face took on a more serious meaning.

One single hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. Tilting her head up, she listened intently to the noises of the ship. There was nothing unusual, just the ordinary humming and thrumming of the engines, but that hair stood at attention on her neck. She never ignored that hair; it had never failed to signify danger.

Of course it wasn't a coincidence. The realization hit her, at the same second she realized what her unconscious mind was listening for. A four letter word slipped out of her mouth under her breath.

Whirling around, she lunged across the narrow space to hit the com panel on the wall. "Tactical Alert!" she shouted, and almost immediately the lights and sirens came on.

"What are you doing?" Malcolm hissed. He stepped up behind her and dropped an arm around her middle, intending to drag her away from whatever machinations she was up to. He grunted as her elbow swung back into his midsection, and by taking advantage of his loosened grip, she broke his hold on her and slid down through his arms and out of his grasp.

He leaned down and grabbed her arms before she could rise, hearing a distant hiss as he pulled her to her feet. She then planted her boots against the wall and shoved them both backwards. Malcolm bore the brunt of his impact, crushed between the alternate wall and her weight. The world shimmied in front of his eyes, as she struggled in his grasp.

Stepping forward to pull his phase pistol, the world took a serious dive to the right as his vision swam. Looking up at Andie's strained expression, he noted the hypo in her hand and realized that he'd been drugged.

"You…what are you….?" He struggled to get the words out as his ability to control his fingers slipped away. "You…bitch," he wheezed, sliding to the floor in an unconscious state.

"Sorry, Reed," she whispered to his sleeping form. She picked up the phase pistol from the floor, where he'd dropped it. "I don't have time to explain."

Andie's face turned to stone. She knew what she had to do so she gritted her teeth as she raced through the corridor toward the shuttle bay.

* * *

In her hurry to render the armory officer lifeless, she hadn't checked the dosage. In the end, it wasn't quite as effective as she'd planned. Malcolm woke a few minutes later, and after shaking the cobwebs out of his brain, he rose unsteadily to his feet.

There was no power on heaven or hell that was going to allow her to flee from his vessel. He stumbled through the corridor, certain that she was making for the airlock. The last words she spoke to her ex-lover echoed in his head: _I am free. You're not but you could be,_ Jase replied as he caressed her face. They were planning to run away, and Malcolm was going to stop them.

She wasn't at the airlock door, but neither was the J_aynie Blue._ The ship shuddered and groaned under his feet, but Malcolm's fuzzy mind paid no attention, intent as he was on stopping the doctor. If she was planning to flee, she'd be heading for the shuttle bay, and his feet carried him there, growing steadier as he moved around. He passed by a crewman lying still in the corridor and knew that she had come this way.

Sure enough, the shuttle was powering up. He slipped inside using his clearance codes, mindful that the pressure would be decreasing in the bay shortly. It didn't take long to unfasten the door and step within.

"You're not going anywhere!" he growled, holding the door to prevent it from closing.

Sitting at the helm, she was muttering the protocols for starting the vessel under her breath. His appearance brought her to her feet, although she rested one arm fearfully against the main chair as she cringed away from Malcolm's rage. Her eyes were very blue and too wide for her pale face, but Malcolm was done being put off by her fragile appearance. The woman was a danger to everyone.

"I'm afraid your rendezvous is cut short, Doctor," he sneered, reaching for his holster, surprised to find it empty. A pulse throbbed painfully at his temple.

"Get out of here, Reed! We don't have time for these games!" she growled.

"We're going to make the time since you're not going anywhere, but to the bridge to speak with Captain Archer. After that you might have a short journey back to Starfleet Command, but after they make you comfortable in the Brig, you'll have all the time in the world." He was cold and furious.

"You have to leave!" she begged, her stalwart exterior slipping.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised grimly.

Sighing, she hung her head. Her shoulders drooped and she shifted her weight forward. Malcolm shifted his weight to make room for her to pass by him, and didn't see the pistol she had kept hidden behind the tall chair until it was too late. A bright bolt of blue lit the room like a lightning strike and Malcolm fell back against the door.

The shaking of the ship was growing louder and with a calculating glance, Andie realized she'd never get him out into the hall before losing her chance to slip away. Cursing steadily in at least four languages, she dragged his body into the pod and sealed the door. The docking arm seized the small craft, dropping it through the open doors and releasing it into space just as a fiery shower of sparks rained down around them, dissipating quickly in the cold black of space.

* * *

Nearly an hour later Archer was standing at the window in his Ready Room when the bell chimed, announcing a visitor. "Come in," he called out. He wasn't surprised to find Trip.

"We've isolated the problem, Cap'n," he began without preamble. "Adhesive in the plasma regulators gummed up the works. The buildup of power is what caused the power cascade, and if someone hadn't pulled the primary relays we'd all be goners."

"Did you find out who pulled the relay?" Archer stood with his back to the engineer, watching the stars hover outside.

Trip shifted his weight. "Ensign Bowman did. He said he got a note from Andie before the explosions started and he did what she asked."

"She knew." Archer's stomach rolled over. "She knew we were about to be sabotaged."

"She knew Blau tried that trick before. It's going to take some time to clean out the parts but we should be back online shortly." Trip looked at Archer, finding it hard to read his old friend the way he used to. "She did us a favor, Cap'n."

"Tell me about the rest of the repairs." He didn't want to hear excuses on behalf of the wayward doctor.

"Some sort of quick welding alloy was used to seal the doors to the launch bay, the cargo bay and the armory. I've set teams to fix them but we're havin' to cut them open with a blow torch."

"What about the crewmen in the armory?"

"Ensign Behr used a phase pistol to cut the sealant. They've been checked and released by medical." There was a moment of silence. "The transporter got the worst of it. We may have to rebuild the console. For now I can run a bypass that allows access from the bridge. You'll have the transporter back as soon as Hess gives the electrical a clean bill of health."

"Has anyone heard from them?" Trip knew the captain wasn't talking about the bandits.

"Sensors are still down," Trip reminded him. "Travis is helping Hoshi with the transceiver array; we'll have communications back pretty soon."

Trip didn't know what else to say. It looked pretty bad for Andie to grab a shuttle and jump ship just before her friends put it out of commission. A succession of contained charges blew out key portions of the ships' functions. They didn't have shuttles, transport, communications or sensors. They lost their ability to fire weapons at a crucial moment. Jase and his companions knew just where to hit them to buy themselves some time.

He could only hope that Andie could be found soon, and that she would have an acceptable reason for jumping ship. He could only hope that Malcolm's absence from _Enterprise_ meant that he was with her, and that they were working together to find the people who did this to them.

He could only hope that Archer's enforced silence meant that he was giving the problem some thought and not automatically estimating how many MACO's it would take to drag one scrappy doctor to the airlock.

She had to be found, and soon.


	39. Chapter 39

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 39

* * *

In the moments immediately following the shower of fire, Andie sat at the main console and directed the shuttle on a quick tour around _Enterprise_. The ship had gone dark and nobody answered her communications. Noting the smoke exuding from the transceiver, she realized they couldn't answer even if they wanted to speak to her. Jerking her attention back to her navigational chores, she gasped and made a quick course correction before the hovering craft drifted through the hull plating in front of her.

The quick turn caused her load to shift and Andie gulped, hearing the heavy thump from her unexpected cargo. When it made no further sign of movement, she turned her attention back to the view screen. The ship seemed to be settling down which meant that the main damage had been done. Since the outer hull had not been breached there was a very good chance that the damage was minimal. She waited just a few minutes more. Nobody seemed to be in a hurry to use the escape pods. Either they were damaged beyond repair or the damage to the ship was not catastrophic and there was no need for escape. The third option that everyone was dead and couldn't use the escape pods wasn't one she was prepared to consider.

Secure in the knowledge that she was safe for now, she got out of her chair and stared at Reed.

_I'm going to have to take him with me_, Andie thought with a sinking feeling. She tied his hands behind his back using extra conduit found in the emergency supplies in the storage lockers but tried to make him comfortable. He looked like he was sleeping but Andie felt certain that he wouldn't be so peaceful when he woke up.

She thought the same could be said of Archer when and if he ever caught up to her.

There was nothing to be gained by worrying about her reputation now. Settling into the pilot's chair she concentrated on finding her ex-boyfriend. The shuttle was still facing the ship and she pressed a button intended to slide backwards into open space. The shuttle lurched forward. She hit a different set of buttons and the nose of the vessel turned quickly and drifted parallel to the larger ship before jerking backward. Closing her eyes to concentrate, Andie opened them and focused on pushing the right buttons in the correct order and the shuttle moved obediently away from _Enterprise_.

Setting a course in the direction she thought Jase might have gone, she engaged the auto-pilot. With a little luck, this would end quickly with less fuss than it started with. There might be hope that her life could be salvaged, but the figure behind her was a pretty good indication that there was no going back. The lieutenant was certain that she was a menace, and had proved that nothing would stop him from seeing her thrown into a brig.

Pursing her lips, she frowned. No matter what else happened, Reed was going to be a problem.

* * *

His dreams haunted him in his uneasy rest. Rolling his head restlessly only knocked it against something hard. Too many years of his life had been tainted by deception, and he would not tolerate it any longer. Knowing there was something he needed to do, he struggled back to consciousness. It took him a moment to get his bearings; eventually he found the thing that knocked his head was the base of a bench seat. She'd left him on the floor.

"You're not going to get away with this."

She barely glanced over her shoulder at the enraged man lying behind her. "That statement would carry more impact if I thought you actually had any idea what I'm getting away with," she told him quietly, pressing buttons as music played in the small cabin. He had been out for a couple of hours but she had hoped he would remain out much longer.

He shifted his weight and discovered that she'd tied his hands behind his back. A few discreet tugs and he realized he would not be escaping easily any time soon. She knew how to tie a knot. He wondered cynically if that skill was taught at Starfleet Medical.

"Captain Archer is going to throw you off the ship," he hissed again, continuing to struggle with his bonds.

"I think you'll notice I haven't gagged you, Lieutenant," the doctor responded. "Please don't make me regret that." She sighed. Reed was going to be a problem. She was going to have to get rid of him. A few keystrokes brought up the most useful star charts and she started looking for someplace to stash him. Biting her lip and checking the time, she realized that the pickings would be slim.

"My absence will be noted," he warned her, trying not to grunt. He managed to sit upright in spite of the tether that tied his hands together. His neck ached. It was painful enough to be uncomfortable but not so miserable that he lost his ease of movement.

"I'm sure they'll assume you're with me," she told him.

That statement puzzled him. What story could she possible have told to Captain Archer that he would allow her to kidnap him? The answer seemed obvious; Archer didn't know he was kidnapped. He probably thought they were working together. The question was: What were they 'working together' to accomplish?

Finally she swiveled around in the navigator's chair, looking at him fully for the first time. She seemed to be sizing him up. Lines had appeared between her eyebrows and at the edge of her mouth. Her assessment didn't seem to please her.

She moved through the tiny craft, pulling a water bottle from a ration pack and offered it to Malcolm. His tongue felt like dry wood, but he hesitated to accept it. Raising a sardonic eyebrow, she squirted water from the bottle into her mouth to show him it wasn't drugged, then offered it to him again. This time he accepted gratefully, wondering if he could lunge at her and pin her against the bulkhead or knock her unconscious without using his hands in the confined space.

After putting away the water bottle, she helped him sit on the bench seat and rested on the bench across from him. "Jase and his cronies slipped away from their guard on _Enterprise_ in order to plant explosive charges," she told him, seeming reluctant to do so.

Malcolm gasped. "Your friends blew up the ship?"

"Not exactly," she hedged. "Their plan didn't work out exactly as they hoped. _Enterprise_ is stalled by not destroyed. They'll be along soon." She tried to sound more positive than she felt. She felt confidant that this was the case; she just didn't have any hard proof.

He nodded, relieved and struggled harder to work his hands free of their bindings.

"Jase is heading for an outpost in the area. We're headed in that direction now. I can drop you off on a moon nearby. You should be safe until you can be picked up."

"I don't think so," he told her. "I think I'd like to meet Captain Blau face to face." His anger was palpable. His chin lifted as he finally felt the bindings stretch out slightly, rubbing the skin of his wrist raw. Hiding the triumphant gleam in his eye wasn't easy but he managed.

"This outpost isn't a pleasant place. It won't be easy to find him, and you won't be safe there."

"What makes you think you can go alone?" he spit out, working faster to wrestle free.

She chewed on her lip and shrugged.

"Ah!" he sneered cynically. "You've been there before." He noticed the phase pistol tucked into the side pocket of her scrubs.

"Your best bet for survival is that moon," she told him firmly. "The atmosphere isn't pleasant but it's breathable, and I'll leave you with a beacon."

"A beacon would alert everyone in the vicinity to my presence in a short period of time," he told her. "I wouldn't be safe there for very long."

Clenching her jaw, she knew he was right, but it was a better chance than bringing him with her. The Reef wasn't kind to people in uniform.

"I'd prefer to stay with you," he told her, trying to soften his voice, to soothe her, hoping she would relax long enough for him to find an opportunity. "Two heads are better than one."

The computer beeped and she looked at the main panel. Malcolm took the chance and lunged at her, leading with his shoulder. She caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and shifted to one side, landing on her hip on the floor. The extra space allowed him to pull against his tethers and they broke in two, freeing his hands. She scrambled away, regaining her footing and faced him, not terribly surprised to find him liberated.

He pounced, aiming for her right side and the phase pistol in her pocket. She dropped one arm against his body in a chop that should have sent him to the ground but his actions were fueled by fury and momentum carried him through to land on the driver's seat. She slipped out of his grasp. He wasn't worried; he had removed the pistol from her pocket. They stood, half-crouched in the narrow confines of the shuttle, panting and glaring at one another. He was nearest the main panel now, while she hovered in the back. The pistol was aimed directly at her.

"I don't think we need to go anywhere near your friends," he sneered at her, leveling the gun and firing a single shot. To his surprise nothing happened. He looked at the pistol in his hand and then up at her smirk. She'd removed the power cell. She held up the cylinder and cocked an eyebrow.

"What's the matter, Sparky? Shooting blanks?" she taunted him. Tossing the battery directly at his forehead, he dodged the object.

Obviously she meant for him to chase the power cell but instead he focused on her charging at him, hoping there was enough room to maneuver in the small cabin.

He came within reach of her but avoided her arm as she swung low, hypo-spray in hand. He'd seen her try that trick too often to let her drug him again. He caught her hand by reaching across his body and squeezing her wrist. Jerking on it, he spun her around and shoved her body into the side of the shuttle, twisting her wrist until she cried out and released the medical device.

He held her pinned there, one hand pressed against her neck and the other clutching her arm. The weight of his body kept her immobile. She may be quick, but she wasn't strong enough to dislodge him. It amused him a little that she tried anyway.

"Well, now," he sneered in her ear. "What do we do now?" His anger was palpable; he was shaking with his fury.

Shoved against the cabin door, Andie had a moment where anger nearly overtook reason. She could probably hit the button to open the door and they'd both be sucked out into space. In spite of the lunacy, she considered that option, discarding it when she realized it would mean he died with the upper hand, and she refused to let that happen.

"Let me go!" she hissed.

Malcolm realized that he couldn't reach the phase pistol and the power cell at the same time, and if he released her, they'd start this little war all over again. Glancing down at his feet, he discovered a possible solution. "Maybe I should just hit you with your own hypo-spray, hmm? That would be a nice bit of justice, don't you think?"

"I'd rather you didn't," she heaved a sigh, the tension flowing out of her body leaving her limp in front of him. "I'm allergic to the contents."

"I doubt that's true," he growled, wondering if it was. Her physical acquiescence made him wary. "You are an accomplished liar."

"So dope me then," she tried to shrug. "I can only hope you're capable of treating anaphylactic shock."

Malcolm realized he couldn't take the chance. "How convenient!" he sneered. He shoved her just hard enough against the wall to make her gasp. "Tell me one thing about you that isn't a lie," he demanded. "Tell me one true thing about you! Maybe I can judge your honesty if I know you have some."

Leaning her head against the smooth door, Andie looked down at her feet. There wasn't a lot to choose from. "My name is Doctor Andie and I work for Starfleet."

Shoving her roughly, Malcolm cried, "Liar! There's no record of an Andrea Brainerd even being born!"

Twisting her neck painfully around, she scrutinized him closely. "How far back in my records did you go?" Annoyance tinted her tone, washing away the ruse of the defeated posture.

"Tell me how you appeared out of nowhere!" he demanded, getting snippy. "Tell me another good tale of lies!"

Her lower lip extended in a mulish pose he couldn't fully see from where he stood behind her. "My father was a big fan of astronomy. When I was born he named me Andromeda, like the galaxy." Shame dripped from every word. "What kind of name is that to saddle on some poor kid? As soon as I was legally able, I changed my name to Andrea. Legally, my name is Andrea Brainerd."

The quiet logic to that story surprised Malcolm. "Your name was Andromeda?" he repeated. In his shock he relaxed his hold and she turned around slowly, keeping her back to the wall.

"That's why Dr. Dick called me 'Romie.' He refused to call me Andrea, that son of a bitch!" she muttered furiously.

Malcolm decided now was not the time to point out that she refused to refer to him as anything other than 'Dr. Dick'. "So if I were to look, I would find a birth certificate on record for an _Andromeda_ Brainerd?" he questioned, trying to sort out the story.

Closing her eyes and sighing, she was forced to refute this. "No," she denied petulantly. Forcing her eyes to meet him, she went on, cheeks flushing with heat. "My dad was working on the Mars Colony when my mom got pregnant. She didn't want to give birth to her first child by herself, so she'd followed him there, but when she went into labor she refused to stay another second. I was born just after we cleared Mars's atmosphere. The only record of my birth is kept in my father's personal files aboard his private vessel."

"Convenient!" Malcolm snapped.

"As soon as I run into him, I'll be sure that he sends a copy directly to your terminal, Lieutenant!" she countered waspishly. "I was a little young to be worried about it at the time!"

She snuck a glance at the control panel, and Malcolm assumed a defensive posture, waiting for her to make a break for it.

"Look," she went on, more businesslike now. "We don't have time to play twenty questions about my life. We're about to be in big trouble."

"Trouble with your ex-boyfriend," Malcolm pointed out, making his assumption of collusion clear.

Andie rolled her eyes. "I was rebelling against my dad; I got in with the wrong crowd. Jase is part of that. I haven't seen him in years; I actually thought he might have gone legit, but the attack on your ship put that theory in the crapper. If we're going to catch him, we have to do it now. We can't call for backup, we can't wait for _Enterprise_." She summed up his appearance with a quick sweep of her eyes. "You should get off now," she advised soberly. "This is about to get rough."

"I can handle rough," he growled. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

An alarm started to chirp on the main panel, signifying sensor activity ahead.

"I need to take that seat and make some course corrections," she told him firmly. "The people we're about to encounter don't wait and see, and they don't ask twice. Are you going to trust me on this?"

"You've lied about nearly everything about yourself," he reminded her. "How can I trust you?"

"Because I've never given you my word before," she posited solemnly. "And I never break my word."

Stormy eyes studied her as the alarm's staccato beep grew more rapid. "We're going to apprehend this man and return him to the proper authorities," he reminded her, lowering his cautionary arm.

"If you say so," she acknowledged, sitting down in the navigational chair and tapping codes into the panel. The alarm stopped chirping.

Malcolm and Andie forged ahead into dangerous territory.

* * *

Very quickly Malcolm had his fill of her tentative pilot's skills, so he threw Andie out of the main chair and told her to direct him where to go. She hovered over his shoulder, pointing out course corrections and other actions. They headed deep into the asteroid field, following a path that seemed both random and predetermined. Andie assured him that she knew where she was going. He wasn't sure that made him feel better.

Eventually a voice carried through the static to inquire curtly about their destination and cargo. Andie spoke some words the Universal Translator didn't pick up and they were guided to the smaller docking bay on the far side of a large tumbling asteroid.

"There's something on the surface of this rock?" Malcolm asked in disbelief as he guided them into a hollowed out portion of rock and settled the shuttle into the assigned berth. A pressurized tube extended automatically to seal against the hull.

"This isn't a rock," she told him, studying the world outside through the view screen. "It's a space station. The stuff isn't on the surface; it's underneath." There were many other conveyances in the long portal, each one attached by a pressurized tube. The tubes obviously led inside while the natural rock-like formations offered protection for the smaller ships from the elements outdoors.

He looked at her dubiously. "It's the size of a small moon!" he pointed out.

"It's no moon," she answered glibly.

Looking around, she picked up her medical bag and a small engineer's kit. She also removed the top half of her scrubs, leaving her in baggy blue pants and a green long sleeved tee shirt. Before she left the cabin she studied his garb. "This is the kind of place that doesn't really take kindly to uniforms," she mentioned while biting her lip. "You don't happen to have anything else on under that, do you?" She gestured at his blue jumpsuit.

The idea of traversing a strange place in his underwear didn't sit well with the armory officer. Rolling his eyes, he unzipped and removed the top half of his coveralls, turning the arms inside out and tying them around his waist. All Starfleet insignias were effectively hidden. "Will this do?" he glared, the black of his dress shirt giving him a sinister air in the dim lighting.

"Sure," she agreed. "Try and look intimidating."

He scowled.

She giggled nervously. "Never mind, just stay behind me."

Malcolm nearly protested the release of the door handle, but she'd already swung it wide open. Luckily the atmosphere was breathable. He stepped outside into the narrow tunnel that led through the center of the rock.

Andie took a moment to adjust to the surroundings then turned to the right.

Malcolm stopped her with a hand on her arm. "I think I hear music and voices from this direction," he told her, indicating that they should head left.

"The bar is that way," she agreed. "But the large docking ports are this way," she indicated the right. "I'd like to see what Jase is up to before I head in there."

That idea had merit, he grudgingly allowed. Tucking his phase pistol into his holster, which hung at an odd angle now that he was half-undressed, he followed her. She led him through a maze of tunnels, up and down ladders, and through access ports that reminded him of his father's submarines. The walls remained unendingly gray, broken up only by the colorful graffiti and posters advertising the goods for sale here.

Just when he decided they must be lost, she stopped moving. They stood before a battered gray door, and upon closer inspection, Malcolm realized it was the outer hull of the freighter.

"Your knowledge of this secret base is astounding," he told her sarcastically.

Andie ignored him. "You should go first." She indicated the door.

"You think I'm going to step inside and say hello?" he asked in disbelief.

Andie eyed him dubiously. "The bar is that way," she reminded him with a shrug of her shoulders. "There's no way they're just waiting inside when there are more amusing diversions nearby. Of course, if you'd like to surrender the phase pistol to me...?" She left the rest unsaid, implying that she would go if he was afraid.

Reaffirming his grip on the weapon, Malcolm glared. "I'll go first then." He started to reach for the door, but she stopped him.

"Watch out for the hound," she reminded him. "Hell's kinda mean."

Malcolm heard the tale of the watchdog from Moreno as they scoured the ship's sensors for traces of the freighter passengers. Drawing a deep breath, he moved into position, looking for the lock that would open the door.

Andie placed her hand on the flat pad beside the portal and a light scanned her palm. The door swung open.

While Malcolm stared in disbelief, Andie shrugged. "It's a genetic recognition panel. I guess Jase never changed the locks." She swerved to the side and flattened her back against the wall, closing her eyes when she heard a snarl.

Malcolm squeezed through the door and encountered Hellspawn. Theirs was not a happy meeting, however. Hell leaped at the intruder and Malcolm fired his weapon. With a yelp and a thump the creature fell to the floor.

Andie appeared right behind him with a medical scanner in hand. "He's sleeping," she stated with a mixture of concern and relief. "His neural pathways are eroding though. The metal cap is failing." She knelt and petted the fierce creature fondly. "He's slowly going mad." A small thread of foam leaked from his mouth to wet the deck plating. "Poor puppy," she crooned.

"Do you mind?" Malcolm gestured around them. "I'd like to get this over with."

Exasperatedly, she rose and looked around. There were two decks, with the cargo bay, engine rooms, galley and med-lab on the ground floor, and the bridge, armory, and crew quarters upstairs.

They split up; Malcolm wandered through the lower level, while Andie climbed the catwalk to the upper level. She started on the starboard side, grimacing at the sight and smell of the domiciles of Boner and Toady. Malcolm wandered quickly through the Med-lab and the galley, finding nothing unusual and no other guests.

In a few minutes he went up the metal stairs and found her in the captain's cabin, seated on the bed with a small bag beside her.

"Scavenging?" he inquired.

"I didn't get a chance to pack before I left last time. These things are mine and they're going with me," she told him, waiting until his back was turned before brushing at the moisture under her eyes.

He pawed through the bag skeptically. He found a couple of books, a battered teddy bear and small box containing a few pictures. Some of the pictures showed three kids playing on a ship. Two of them had blue hair and eyes, the third had blond hair. A few more showed just the blue-haired boy and the blond girl; both of whom smiled a lot less. He looked up, caught her watching him and set the things down again.

"You used to live here." He was piecing together her familiarity with this place.

"It was a long time ago."

"That's why you were never in school in Switzerland."

Her eyes were cold. "Do you mind if we do this later?"

"You love him." His voice was flat in spite of the surprise he felt. This was a cozy little nest away from the world. He could see it now as he peered around the room.

"I used to." Moving toward the door, she indicated that they should hurry up.

He stopped her with one hand on her arm. "What happened?"

She stopped, leaning in to the doorframe. "He tried to kill me."

Malcolm wasn't surprised, although he was beginning to wonder if she'd ever met anybody who hadn't tried the same thing. "Is this about revenge?"

"_He _came looking for _me_," she reminded him pointedly. "I never wanted him to come."

A domestic squabble, that's what this all came down to. Malcolm huffed in frustration, looking out into the cargo bay for the patience to deal with this sordid mess. Something odd caught his eye.

"The perspective's off," he stated nonsensically, peering over her shoulder and walking away, leaving Andie feeling woozy from the sudden turn in the conversation.

Squeezing one eye shut and tilting his head only confirmed his suspicions so he went downstairs, where he crossed the room to study the wall most visible from the captain's cabin. Shaking her head, Andie started to follow him down the stairs. As she moved, she could see what plagued him. From this one point just outside the captain's cabin, the wall and the ceiling didn't quite appear to connect. By the time she hit the top of the stairs the bulkhead was as solid and complete as she would expect it to be. Malcolm was already at the bottom, running a hand over the smooth side and frowning.

Returning to the main cabin's door, she could once again see the discrepancy, like the edges of wall and the ceiling that made up the alternate catwalk weren't flush. Tilting her head to one side Andie saw the misaligned corner shimmy, like heat rolling over the desert floor.

The wall wasn't really there. It just looked like it was there. In every other corner of the room, it was as real and exact as if it was the true wall, but from this one corner the shimmy was visible.

"The wall vibrates here," Reed stated as he smoothed his hand over the barrier.

"Sure it's not just the engine?" she asked.

He looked at her darkly. "Then the floor would also vibrate."

He looked the wall up and down, noting the three vents at the bottom. Kneeling down he tried to press his fingers through the mesh, but there was no give.

"There must be a power source," she called down. "Hang on." Moving around the catwalk, she entered the bridge.

Malcolm was deep in his inspection but looked to study the wall in front of him. "Power source?" He pondered. "Are you talking about some sort of holographic projection? This wall is solid," he pointed out. Frowning, he remembered Trip telling him about a room where he sat in a boat so real he thought he might drown on an alien ship they encountered four years ago.

Andie skimmed the control panel. She found a button marked door, but it wasn't attached to the other interior scanners. "I found something." She pushed the button.

He groaned when she hit the button without any certainty that it was the one they sought. It was unfortunate that she was correct. With a sad little hum the illusory wall disappeared leaving behind the mechanism that allowed its presence. Tiny electrodes littered the wall in front of them, no bigger than Christmas tree lights. But the illusion they created was much more sinister. The bulbs created a false wall. It extended the three meters high and wide, but only a few centimeters deep. It was just enough space to cover a hiding spot.

Without hesitating, Andie joined Malcolm on the main floor and slid open the first of the ventilation vents at floor level. Inside the space rested one long and narrow container. It rolled into the cargo hold easily on its wheels. Lights from the monitors blinked on the outside of the coffin-like box.

The same could not be said of her companion. He recognized the hiding place for what it was; a smuggler's cache, a place to store booty until a sufficient buyer could be found.

The pieces of Andie's life fit together with a jolt.

"You're a bloody pirate!" he seethed.


	40. Chapter 40

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 40

* * *

Malcolm's dire pronouncement that she was a pirate was met with a flash of irritation just before she dropped her gaze.

"I'm sure it's just splitting a hair at this point but I was not so much a pirate as I was a ...a smuggler," Andie corrected reluctantly, brushing her hand across the viewing panel in the top of the box. She refused to look at him.

"Is there any difference?" he hissed.

"There is a great deal of difference to me!" she shouted before clamping her mouth shut and visibly trying to restrain her temper.

"How the hell did you ever get into Starfleet if you're a pirate?" he demanded.

"Smuggler; not pirate!" she corrected again, this time more snappishly. "And I'm...reformed." Continuing to check the monitors, she rubbed harder at the little window, trying to clear the moisture enough to get a good look inside. "Can we focus on catching the kidnapper first? You can throw me in jail later."

"You kidnapped _me_," he pointed out coldly.

"I _told_ you to leave! You wouldn't comply!" she argued. "We were under a time constraint!"

"Because your boyfriend blew up the ship right before you stole a shuttle pod."

"He didn't blow it up! He slowed it down! Planting explosives on key systems was his method," she acknowledged. "It allowed for the offload of cargo without a great deal of fuss. I didn't think he was still up to those tricks." Her voice tensed. "I hoped that he became a legitimate freight captain. By the time I realized the problem, it was too late to stop it."

"Would you have tried if you had known?" he asked, still furious. Piracy was one of the few unforgivable sins in his book, and it looked like she'd committed it. Malcolm also noted that she didn't bother to deny that she was dating Blau.

Ignoring him, she pulled a scanner out of her pocket. The interference that had kept the Enterprise crew from scanning the interior seemed to be linked to the holographic wall because her scans worked just fine. She let the machine take readings but grew tired of the fierce hatred directed her way by her companion. Standing up, she gave him something else to do.

"There are six other compartments," she indicated the two screens on this wall and the three on the other side. "Find out how many passengers we've got."

He refused to move, glued in place by his hatred of piracy.

She glared at him. "Rescue first; Brig later, okay?" Her tone was clipped but laced with humor even though Reed didn't find anything funny about their current situation.

Pursing his lips he did as she directed, hating the way she casually handed out orders as though he was her henchman. It turned out Blau had been busy. There were six cases in all.

"These markings look like the same diagrams that appeared on the ship that attacked the _Jaynie Blue_." He gestured through the window to the symbols marked across the heavy band of white metal that wrapped around her slender neck, panting lightly from the exertion of pulling the cases out of the wall.

"Somebody attacked the _Jaynie Blue_?" Andie asked, looking up from her medical scans and remembering the way the ship shook with weapons fire when she waited in Sickbay. Somehow, after discovering their passengers, Andie had assumed that Jason had been attacking _Enterprise_. She resumed her perusal of the cases, checking the bio-readings on the outside of the stasis chambers, trying to ignore the growing feeling of unease in her gut.

"A ship chased the _Jaynie_ on a direct course with _Enterprise_. Since we didn't know about the hostages, we fired on them and they removed themselves from our superior weaponry. Obviously we interrupted their rescue mission." No doubt the bitter tone was the result of finding he'd been a pawn in this tawdry little game.

Ignoring the accusation in his tone, she simply asked, "What did the ship look like?" Closing her eyes she thought she could already see it in her mind's eye.

He gave her brief specs on the vessel he'd seen, not liking the way the description caused her face to harden slightly. When he finished she remained still like she was carved out of stone, peering into the small window at the first female form lying so still.

Slowly she blinked, wiping the condensation away from the window to get a clearer look inside. The contents made her exhale deeply. "This girl is Daihan," she stated morosely. "You don't know that species. The Daihan killed Jason's parents, they destroyed his home. He holds them responsible for his sister's death as well." Drawing a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she added miserably. "He's after revenge."

In a heartbeat her temper changed. "No wonder he thought I'd be happy to see him," she gritted out through clenched teeth. "Idiot!" She cursed vehemently.

"Why would he assume you want to take part in that?" Malcolm wondered.

"Jaynie died in my arms. She was my best friend. She was so sweet and so kind," Realizing her reverie was under scrutiny, she drew another deep breath in order to evaporate the tears that gathered in her eyes. Futilely she pleaded with Malcolm to believe her. "I would never have participated in this if I'd known. This girl is a member of the Royal House. She is protected. Nobody may touch her without the kings' permission. The Daihan will hunt him down and kill him. They'll probably be hunting _Enterprise_ for attacking them."

"They are no match for _Enterprise_," he told her, realizing the situation was grim. _Enterprise_ couldn't defend herself at the moment, and even if she could, her crew might destroy a ship with legitimate concerns under false pretenses.

"We need to catch him first," she told Reed. "You should go back to the shuttle and make your way back to Enterprise with this information. I'll head inside and find him."

"I'm not leaving you here alone," he told her.

"I can take care of myself," she retorted defensively.

"Oh," the sarcasm was rich, "Clearly." He gestured around the room at the pirate's lair, the sleeping mad dog, and the gathering of royal kidnapped victims. "I won't leave you alone." His tone was firm.

Truth be told, she was grateful for the company, even his. She really didn't want to go through this by herself. "They can't stay here," she told Reed, indicating the stasis chambers. She also nodded at the uniform tied around his waist. "I understand that you don't like deception, but how do you feel about disguises?" she asked, tilting her head to one side to study him.

"You think we should disguise ourselves as pirates?" The thought made him sick.

"We can't head into public like this. We'll have more luck finding our prey if we blend in."

It didn't take long to run through their short list of options. They couldn't stay here, they couldn't take all these women back to _Enterprise_, and they couldn't call for backup inside the asteroid field. The guard station they passed through on the way here made it clear that outsiders weren't wanted. He was going to have to follow her lead. Clenching his jaw he nodded.

Hurrying up the stairs and back into Jason's cabin, she pulled some things from the locker, tossing a few over the railing at Reed. His reluctance was clear. She only hoped that his code of honor and conduct would allow him to bend enough to blend in.

Reed pulled on the dark pants and gray shirt. He kept his own boots. When she returned to the main floor he was surprised at how different she looked. A red sleeveless tee left most of her mid-section bare and showed off muscled arms; the deep vee exposing a great deal of décolletage. Bottle green pants with lots of pockets hung so low on her hips he was afraid they'd fall off. Heavy black boots laced up tightly. She had also applied make-up in heavy dark sweeps across her eyes and her lips glimmered. A braid pulled back so tightly from her face Malcolm was surprised she could blink at all, was streaked with red paint.

Holding open a small case, she turned to Reed and offered up the paint. Reed decided to go along with her scheme for now. She seemed to know more about this place than he did. He indicated that she should fix his disguise. She dipped two fingers in gray paint and swiped them across his eyelids in a straight line like a mask, and dabbed silver at his temples, giving him wings that swept away from his face. A different gel made his hair stand on end, making him look wilder than usual.

While the stasis chambers continued defrosting, she moved to a cargo container next to the front wall, located underneath the bridge. Kicking it open with her foot, she exposed a vast array of pistols. The case next to it offered knives and unconventional weapons, including a bull-whip. The third case exposed a supply of detonation devices.

"Suit up," she offered with a sweep of her hand. "Take whatever you want."

"Isn't that the pirate way?" he sneered. The grim smile she turned his way was cold and made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

Without further ado, she picked up a pair of slender curved blades and slipped them into a harness that held them securely across her back.

Reed started to reach out a hand, intrigued by the massive sidearm snuggled in its black holster in the first case.

"That one's mine though," Andie's hand swept it out from under his grasp. She slung it around her hips and fastened the strap around her thigh. With a guilty nod she explained. "This one is genetically coded to my DNA. If anybody else touches the grip, bad things happen."

"What kind of bad things?"

"Very bad things," was her only reply. The holster fit around her waist like it belonged there. It held the weapon just under her fingertips without any further adjustments. At the moment it looked more at home than her hypo-sprays did. She was shedding her medical persona and taking on the appearance of a pirate right before his very eyes, like the chameleon-like quality of her eyes that changed to reflect their immediate surroundings.

She nodded at the third case. "Try the stun grenades," she suggested, as a way of making amends for stealing the gun he obviously wanted. "You might want to take a blade too." She gestured at the knives in various sizes and weights.

He watched her as she girded herself for battle. Her own heavy Klingon blade was tucked into her belt at the small of her back just under the other curved blades. A smaller stiletto was tucked into her boot. A smaller pistol hung at her left hip opposite the rather large one that hung under her right hand. Two thin sticks were slipped into her braid, invisible in their new home and available to deliver some unknown pain to anyone who might attempt an assault. She slid a bandolier over one shoulder and tucked in an assortment of items: a small leather case for an unknown purpose, several stun grenades, and something that looked like a complicated slingshot hung next to two or three cylinders she took from Sickbay.

When she looked up from the complicated task of lacing up long leather gloves that left her fingers bare and caught him watching her, she blushed. "Dura-strength wire," she stated awkwardly, showing off the backs of the gloves which were decorated with a half moon of something that looked like mother of pearl tucked into the leather.

"Are you planning to garrote somebody?" he wondered. The doctor was just full of surprises. Trouble was he hated surprises.

"I like to have the option," she shrugged. She declined to tell him that she had once used the wire to pull herself out of a reactor pit when the ladder broke; unmindful of the fact that he might find that explanation soothing. The less he knew about her, the better, she decided somewhat petulantly.

"You do realize this is the twenty second century?" he questioned dryly. He had fitted an extra pistol to his belt and a knife in his boot. He'd spent most of his time studying the explosives, wondering how much damage they had done to his ship.

"You've got a problem?" she asked with a saucy grin. She'd slipped into the mess hall while he poked around and now she hid three small pouches in one of the many pockets in her pants.

"You've selected many knives," he pointed out.

"I'm good with knives," she smiled slowly. Her eyes weren't nearly so cheerful.

He wondered how much of her perky nature was a posture she applied to defer questions about her habits. Perhaps it was just another defense mechanism.

"I should think as a physician that you'd prefer a less lethal method of subduing your prey," he suggested.

She shrugged. "Knives aren't lethal if the prey heeds my warning to stay away. Besides, I've never broken anything I can't fix later." Hearing a noise from the coffins behind them, she left him standing there, and knelt beside the first container.

The first girl seemed to be waking up. Andie opened the box lid and exposed the female to the open air. Long hair tangled around her face which was dirty from tears and sweat. Mottled dots trailed down the bridge of her nose and spread out over her mouth. The alien female had pointed, notched ears and when Andie helped her sit up, Malcolm noticed with shock that she had a tail with a notch at the end. She seemed angry and afraid, shrieking and shrinking away from the red-haired mercenary that appeared to hold her captive.

Andie knelt down and spoke in another of what appeared to be a long list of alien languages that Earth had never heard of, and the girl stopped yelling. Then she caught sight of Malcolm and panicked again.

Andie laid a hand on the side of the box and spoke gently to her. They carried on a back and forth dialogue. The way the female's head swiveled around, Malcolm assumed she was getting the story on how she came to be trapped in a pirate's hold. Andie held out a hand and helped the girl out of the stasis pod.

"This is Traia," the doctor told Malcolm without turning her head. "She's lady's maid to the Princess of Daihan." She spoke in that foreign tongue to the alien who looked around at the other boxes and gasped. Andie sent Traia to check on her friends, and finally glanced at Malcolm. "Ladies in the Royal House are kept separate from males. To touch any one of them is a treasonous act punishable by death. Keep your hands to yourself, no matter what."

Malcolm glared indignantly at her. "I would never take advantage of them!"

"And don't look them in the eye either," she told him, noting his hostile gaze. "It's a sign of disrespect. And don't talk to them. Put all your questions to them through me."

"Perhaps I should just wait here until you're finished rescuing them?" he snorted.

Exasperated she threw up her hands. "That's what I've been trying to get you to do since you got on board the shuttle pod!"

Lines deepened between his brows as he silently despised her. Traia finished her rounds of the other pods and came running back to Andie, chattering like a magpie. Whatever she said made Andie pale.

"They were traveling with the Princess when they were attacked by pirates. She is not among the stasis chambers which means Jase took her into the Reef."

"I thought to touch her means death?" he snapped.

"It does," Andie concurred. Shock made her wonder out loud. "What the hell would he do that for?"

"Perhaps he's trying to impress you," Malcolm sneered.

Instead of making her angry, she grew thoughtful. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she turned her attention to Traia who was helping the others rise from their imposed sleep. They were all upset and disturbed, but they accepted Andie as their leader, even as ridiculous as she looked with the red hair and wild make-up.

Malcolm saw her offering blankets to the ladies, and put a hand on her shoulder, ignoring the horrified gasps of the half-clothed women that he would dare touch a female. "What are you planning to do with them?" he asked.

"I was planning to stow them in the shuttle," she replied absently. "It's designed to hold six. They will be safer there than here."

"You're going to take them back through those tunnels? Then what?" He was the chief of security and he was done taking orders from the doctor.

"I plan to go get the Princess," she replied coolly.

"You're just going to walk right in the front door?"

"That's the plan," she admitted stubbornly.

"That's not a plan! That's suicide!"

He seemed ready to continue shouting at her, but she interrupted, waving away his objections with one hand. "Nobody slips into Eckta's without his knowing about it. Anybody who wants in goes in through a door, or they die." She raised an eyebrow. "He's more paranoid than you are."

"It's not paranoia if you're right," he muttered.

"Oh!" she snapped her fingers. Slipping up the ladder to the bridge station, she returned in a moment with two curlicues of black metal, one of which she slung around her ear. The rounded edge of the curl rested just in front of the auditory canal.

Reluctantly he added the second curl to his own ear. In a few seconds the chatter of the females in the room became a language he could understand. "A translator!" he sputtered in surprise.

Andie shrugged. "I thought it might help. It only translates audio signals. It won't translate your verbal signals to them," she indicated the women. She slung the bag of items she'd retrieved from the captain's berth over her shoulder. "Are you ready for this?"

"Wait!" Malcolm stopped her. Reaching back into the boxes she opened, he pulled out a small pistol, barely big enough to fit inside his palm. "They should protect themselves," he pointed out, starting to offer it to the ladies, but withdrawing his hand when they shrank away from him.

Andie turned to Traia. "Would you like a weapon?"

Traia stopped herding the other females into a line and looked at Andie. "No, Shu'shai. It is your duty to protect us."

It seemed the audio translator was working just fine, Malcolm thought. "What does Shu'shai mean?" he asked Andie.

She shrugged and looked at her feet. "I don't know."

Although he knew she was lying he wasn't sure why. "Who the hell are you?" he wondered out loud.

"That's a good question," she muttered, herding the women out the door.

When the two of them were left in the room, Malcolm grabbed her arm again. "Out intention is to detain those men for punishments befitting their crimes," he warned her. "This is not about revenge."

Behind him, Hellspawn was beginning to twitch and wiggle. Andie pulled the large pistol from its holster and fired a burst of blue energy. The dog lay still again, its chest rising and falling evenly. She looked evenly at Reed.

"I give you my word that I am not seeking revenge," she said, indicating that he should precede her out the door.

He halted her movement to the other side of the ship by grasping her arm. "We're not going to kill him," he stated clearly. "He'll be held for trial."

It seemed to take her a long time to ponder that advice. Finally she nodded. "I'd like to be at that trial," she answered, before slipping out the door.

* * *

They ran into trouble almost as soon as they rounded the corner. A slender blue creature with a bulbous head and two tentacles in addition to two arms leaned against a wall, blowing greasy black bubbles with his saliva. He was accompanied by a large rust-colored mass of what could be called a humanoid, and a dark-haired female who sipped something out of a green bottle.

"Sorry, folks," the tentacled creature stepped forward. "You can't pass wit'out you pay the toll."

Reed started to step forward from his position at the rear, but Andie waved a hand indicating that he should stay. She kept her head down and peered up through her lashes while hanging back in the shadows. All the trio knew about the figure in front of them was the cold hard voice that spit out a single word.

"Move."

The tentacles slithered through the air clumsily, as the grease-blowing boy grinned a nasty grin. "I don't think those prostitutes belong to you," he shuffled away from the wall. The rusty humanoid mass joined him and they blocked the tunnel.

"I said move," she repeated. Her voice was lower than usual and employed a rough edge. The shadow hid fingers as she pulled a pinch of powder from one of the slender pouches at her belt. The other hand slid backwards and slid the _d'ktahg_ out of its leather case.

One tentacle whipped around as she stepped forward. The rusty mass moved, then clutched its face and cried out as a powder hit its eyes. The greasy bubble-blower was pinned against the wall by the tip of the blade piercing the skin just under his chin. The female dropped her bottle and scurried away.

With the hand, free of the pinch of salt that hit the rusty mass's eyes, Andie raised her head to look in the bulbous and surprised face of the boy. "I... said... move." She growled clearly.

The blue-green creature under her blade paled and flattened itself closer to the wall. "Dräe!" It squeaked in terror. "I...I th-thought you were...dead."

"You thought wrong, Cyb." Her voice was lower, more gravelly. She glared over her shoulder at the rusty crying mass. "Don't make me tell you again."

"Thinga! Get out of the way!" Cyb cried out, waving one hand to indicate that the rusty mass should move. Reluctantly, it whimpered as it backed away, rubbing at its eyes.

"Open!" she commanded darkly, indicating the sealed hatch nearly under Cyb's foot. Inching down carefully, ever mindful of the sharp blade, Cyb spun the dial and swung the lid up. Over her shoulder she told Traia to get the females down the ladder and wait. The female complied quickly.

"If you warn anyone that I'm here, I'll tell Eckta you're running a sting out here without him."

"I wouldn't betray you," Cyb whined.

The lie made her eyes narrow dangerously. Andie's blade dug deeper into his skin. "If something should happen to my ship before I get back, I'm coming to find you," Andie promised Cyb who was beginning to perspire profusely.

"I wouldn't touch your ship!" he squeaked.

"I'm not going to ask if you touched it," she promised darkly. "I'm just going to find you."

Malcolm tossed an odd look her way as he slipped past her and joined the Daihan women at the bottom of the ladder.

Before descending through the portal, she removed a small sack of water and sprayed Thinga's eyes clean. "Your loyalty to scum will get you killed quicker rather than later," she told him gently. "You should find safer work." She disappeared through the hole.

Malcolm stepped up behind Andie. "What was that?" he demanded.

"The welcoming committee," she quipped, moving to the head of the line and resuming their march through the nearly empty corridors.

* * *

The trip to the shuttle was shorter than the trip to the freighter. It seemed she'd taken the long way round the first time. Malcolm insisted on being the one to open the shuttle door to ascertain that thugs weren't waiting to jump them. As soon as he left the pod, the ladies slipped inside.

"Find her, Shu'shai," Traia begged. "Please!"

Andie answered with a whisper in her ear that was out of Malcolm's range of hearing. He glared as she sealed the hatch after warning them not to answer the door to anybody but her.

"What if it's a member of the crew?" Malcolm demanded as she sealed the ladies inside.

"I don't think they could find the shuttle even if they did show up," Andie told him, brushing past him and heading toward the raucous music.

He grabbed her arm and detained her. "What am I supposed to expect in this bar of yours?"

"The layout changes," she told him. "It's a circular room with exits on all sides. It's filled with all kinds of people."

"Thieves and cutthroats," he growled, disgusted by the thought.

"Look," she started tersely. "It's obvious you have some bug up your ass about pirates, but you need to accept one fact: not everyone in there is a bad person! Most of them are just trying to stay alive any way they can!"

"At the expense of others!" he retorted angrily.

"They have nowhere else to go!" she countered.

"They could just go home!" he pointed out. It surprised him that he was spoiling for a fight with this woman. He hadn't been that reckless in years.

Yanking her arm out of his grip and stepping up to glare at him, her voice trembled with fury. "Not everyone has a home. Just think about that before you shoot them."

Something in her tone silenced the sneering words that threatened to spill out. He had sudden reason to wonder if she was talking about herself when she spoke of the homeless and the desperate. It only took a moment to remember that this was the daughter of the greatest medical mind Earth had ever known. She had someplace to go.

"Let's get this over with," he indicated with a tilt of his head that she should lead the way.

Gritting her teeth over his condescending tone, she flounced around and stomped away.


	41. Chapter 41

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 41

* * *

The path was circuitous and lined with shady figures that kept their heads down but nonetheless watched the pair progress through the dim corridors with dark and stealthy eyes. Malcolm was impressed by the way Andie blended in, not just by wearing the old, worn clothes, but also in the way she moved. Her shoulders were pulled back and when she walked her hips swayed more than usual. She also kept her head down and glared up through her eyelashes. It was a far cry from the woman who fluttered through Starfleet's corridors like an earnest co-ed. He kept an eye on her movements trying to match her slithering actions, but just wound up feeling silly.

They joined a line that led deeper into a crevice where the music could be heard in the distance pounding loud enough to make the walls shudder. Reed stood directly behind Andie and when she leaned her head back to speak to him, they looked for all the worlds like a couple sharing a private moment before the chaos of clubbing took over.

"Inside these walls call me Dräe or call me Red," she ordered softly. "Many might think I'm dangerous; don't disabuse them of that notion. Some might wonder why I'm not dead. Just shrug and say nothing. And for the love of cats, don't tell them you're with Starfleet! These people don't take kindly to organized government." She heard a sharp noise and saw a female yank on a leash attached to the neck of the male behind her. "And don't interfere with anything you see in here. Act like you belong."

"I'll be fine," he hissed. The crush of dangerous people around them was making him nervous. He couldn't believe there wasn't an easier way to enter this place although his steely eyes searched for one.

"Loosen up," she ordered less gently. "You look like you've got a stick up your ass." She peered around the hulking male in front of her. "Do you see a hellhound with one ear torn?"

He leaned in the other direction. "On your left," he told her. "Another acquaintance of yours?"

She didn't answer but shifted her weight slightly to get a better look. The creature had the same dark coat complete with sharp bones protruding from his back as Hellspawn. It had the same nick in his tail too. She seemed satisfied that it was the correct creature she was hoping for.

They moved forward slowly. They were almost at the doors that led down further into the chilly rock. "This is going to get rough," she told him over one shoulder. "Get ready." His body was already tense.

Two large hairy goons loomed on each side of the portal. A third, tall and pale, took coins from each of the entrants. Malcolm and Andie passed through the opening, putting the hairy thugs between them and the door. The pale man stopped the burly creature in front of her. The burly man paid his coin and let the purse slide back on his hip. Quick as a whip, Andie had dipped her hand into the open pouch and removed two coins from the inside. Malcolm made a mental note to add pocket picking to her list of crimes.

The pale man held out his hand to receive the coins. His fluid eyes met her gaze and widened. One quick finger indicated the two humans to the hairy duo now standing behind them and they moved forward to intercept the humans even as the mâitre d' smiled his false greeter's smile.

Andie smiled coldly at the pale man. "Hello, Cirro," she smirked as his hand reached for her arm. One of the two hellhounds, the one with the torn ear that looked remarkably like Hellspawn minus the tin hat, leaped forward at her as the two bouncers reached simultaneously for Malcolm. Andie shouted a command in what sounded like Klingon even as her foot and knee drove the pale man against the wall.

"Chagh!" The hound sat down, confused and slightly excited; its partner did the same. "Chagh,_ sicco boio_!" Andie pointed behind her and the canine pounced on one of the two men trying to pull Malcolm's arms from his sockets. Sharp teeth sunk into the bouncers' nether regions and he screamed and tried to pry the dog's mouth open. Malcolm hit the second guy with an elbow in the nose followed by a quick kick that dropped him flat on his back. The bouncer was pinned down by the second hellhound who seemed to think this was some kind of game. Reed moved to give assistance to Andie then realized that she didn't need any.

"That was pitiful," she taunted cheerily. "Want to go again?"

The pale man known as Cirro was pinned up against the wall, looking down with consternation at the heavy blade planted directly underneath the future of his children. He was standing on tiptoe and sweating as he hoped he didn't fall directly on the blade. Although Andie's hand rested firmly on the hilt, she was fondling the torn ears of the hellhound that slavered and shivered with pleasure at her touch. The first goon rolled on the floor nearby, still cupping his privates as the second hound licked his face.

"Who's a good boy?" Andie crooned. "Chagh's a good boy, yes he is!" The hellhound sat on his haunches and smiled. "Cirro's not such a good boy though, no he isn't." She turned with malicious glee to view her prisoner.

"Dräe!" Cirro tried to sound smooth even though he was trapped. "I didn't know it was you. I heard a rumor that you were dead."

"I'm not as dead as some would like," she commented dryly.

Cirro blanched. "You don't think I'm one that wanted you..."

"Don't care," she held up her free hand, waving away his protests. "Where is he?"

"Where's who?" Cirro played dumb, gulping deeply. He could see she wasn't buying it and tried another tactic. "You've got yourself some new meat. Why...why don't you just let it go?"

"Before you make me ask you again, look down and tell me you recognize the blade," she told him haughtily.

From the way the pale skin turned even whiter, it was certain that Cirro recognized the heavy, sharp weapon and knew of the twin blades that would spring forth at a twist of her wrist to impale his thighs on their brute force.

"I don't know," he whimpered. Shaking her head in dismay she reached for a firmer grasp on the knife. "But he might have come in another door! He might have come in the other door! You've gotta ask the boss about that!" His voice rose an octave as he finished in a panic.

She studied his face. "Okay," she agreed. Just as determinedly, she reached again for the blade.

Cirro screamed in advance of her attack.

Malcolm surprised her. He stepped up behind her and slipped one hand around her waist and nuzzled her neck. "Don't kill him now," he murmured in a dark low voice that brought out goose bumps on her skin. "There's no sport in it. If we need to kill him we'll come back and...hunt him properly."

By turning her head, she was able to study him. His actions were playful and seductive. She didn't really think he'd had it in him to cooperate. His eyes were dead serious though; he wasn't about to let her attack this one for what seemed to be no reason. It seems Lieutenant Reed was a man of many facets. "As you wish," she murmured nuzzling her cheek against his.

Facing Cirro again, she glared. "If I find that you lied to me, I'll be sure to remember all the reasons I don't like you," she promised, reaching for the handle less purposefully.

"There's no need for that," Cirro stood more easily as she pulled the thick blade from out of the wall, releasing him to his own power. "You know how pleased I am to have two returning guests of such illustrious means in our humble establishment." He was back to the smooth tones of the official greeter, relieved to be standing on his own feet.

Malcolm stiffened. "I don't believe we've met before," he corrected the thin man. He'd certainly remember a tall pale man like Cirro, he thought.

Cirro didn't bat an eye. "Of course not, forgive me. Shall I prepare a table?" He waved a hand at a serving girl.

"Never mind," Andie declined. "I think we'll sit at the bar." Cirro had an excellent memory. It was odd that he thought he recognized Malcolm. She decided to let it go. One bad boy at a time was all she could really handle.

The slender creature stepped back to let them pass. The outer chamber in front of them was full of vendors selling everything from fabrics and perfume to weapons and drugs. It was crowded and reeked of incense and other less pleasant odors. Some of the figures crowded close together around their goods and peered suspiciously over their shoulders at the passers-by as though engaged in secrets. A rotund female with six breasts tried to breastfeed as many young while she argued over the price of a bushel of vegetables. Dräe traversed this narrow hall with great speed, and Malcolm was forced to hurry to keep up although he would have liked to get a closer look at the tent hiding what appeared to be an arms merchant.

They arrived at the heavy red curtains that dissected this chamber from the dimly lit room filled with dancers and drinkers on the other side. Andie pushed through it confidently. A tall thin alien, looking much like Cirro at the door, reached out a hand to stop them but one look at her face and he dropped his arm instead in a nervous gesture of welcome. "Dräe," he wheezed. "I thought you were dead."

"Not so much," she muttered, pushing past him and making her way straight to the main bar.

They moved further into the main room. It was filled with more shady types of many different species. They came in a variety of colors and sizes; some had facial ridges or skin discolorations. A few were even more exotic than that. Some patrons sat in high-backed booths, others danced on a crowded floor. A band churned out loud music with a good beat. It reminded Reed of a little punk bar he'd frequented in college.

Around the outer edges of the room, half-circles were draped in curtains that hid the activities behind them from view. One curtain was pulled back and Malcolm watched a green alien haggle with a red alien over some fabrics at a tall booth. Another curtain revealed a room where scantily clad females reclined seductively and crooked a finger to encourage his business.

"Why do they think you're dead?" Malcolm had to shout to be heard over the loud music that blared from the short stage on his right.

"Because I went to a lot of trouble to make them believe it," she answered tersely, pushing her way through the crowd.

Reed's attention was caught by the band. The lead singer was a muscular green humanoid with rusty hair and red eyes. He was wearing tight black leather clothing and sang with gusto in a foreign tongue. The band consisted of two others that looked like him, and a percussionist that looked like a giant octopus. Reed jerked his eyes back to his guide with difficulty.

Pretty girls who looked a bit ragged around the edges moved carefully between the customers with heavy trays of beverages. Two pedestals on the edge of the dance floor held females writhing in time to the beat. There were plenty of dancers, hopping and shaking to the rhythm.

Andie breezed right by them all, including a male reclining in a booth, yanking on a female by her leash. The female struggled and cried out but nobody stopped to help her.

Malcolm stepped forward. "Excuse me!" he started.

The male glared and revealed a double row of sharp teeth. "What?" he growled, yanking harder on the leash. The female sobbed silently.

Andie appeared at his side and slipped an arm through Reed's. "He wants to know where you got your nose ring," she interjected, pinching the officer lightly to warn him.

"I got it off a dead guy on the landing pad!" the alien sneered and the others at his table laughed with him.

Andie shrugged and pulled Malcolm away. "Very important rule to remember," she shouted privately in his ear. "Never piss off the cannibals." She dragged him to the circular bar that marked the outer edge of the dance floor and shoved him onto a stool.

"How can you let him torment the girl like that?" he objected, still looking like he might go over and teach the cannibals a lesson.

Eyeing him with exasperation, Andie sighed and pulled the small leather case from her belt. It was the size of a cigarette case, but it didn't hold smokes. Inside was a series of thin wires with tiny fluffs of feathers on the end. She removed one, and inserted it into a hollow tube. Glancing casually over her shoulder she sent the dart flying through the air with a puff of air on one end of the tube. The cannibal jerked like he'd been stung, brushed the dart to the ground without realizing he'd been hit and continued to guffaw with his group. Andie had turned back to the bar and didn't watch to see the male scratch at his chest where the dart hit. He scratched again. He scratched harder. Bellowing in rage he rose, scratching insistently at his chest, and nearly drawing blood.

"He's going to be too itchy for a couple of days to do her any harm, okay?" She rolled her eyes in Malcolm's direction.

"What happens after that?" he asked, trying not to be amused at the creature's misfortune.

"She gets smart and leaves him or she stays and takes the abuse. You can't make her change her life just because it's not the choice you'd make," she told him tersely.

"How many times I tell you to leave the cannibals alone?" A gruff and oily voice grumbled from behind the bar. In the light mist that rained down from humidifiers, Malcolm came face to face with a large octopus-like creature. Its moist skin was mottled brown and its eyes were deep black pools of wet that chilled him to the bone. Six of its eight tentacles continued to busily fill drink orders and wipe up spills behind him, while the remaining two kept him upright.

"Been a while, Red," the bartender noted calmly, not being at all surprised that she was here. He seemed to be the only creature who hadn't thought her to be dead.

"Been a while, Eckta, Andie agreed. "Looking for Blue."

"Ain't seen him," Eckta demurred, filling two glasses with dark brown liquid and setting them in front of the pair.

"His ride's out front," Andie pointed out.

"Maybe he caught a new ride." The leer was especially lewd coming from the slimy creature. "I see you got new meat." Now he was leering at Malcolm who suppressed his revulsion by feigning disinterest and turning his head to look around at the bar.

"Yeah, this is…"she hesitated before deciding to stick with the color scheme. "…Noir."

"Is he now?" Eckta grunted shrewdly. Something about that exchange amused the creature, and his chuckles only made Andie's glower intensify. She was reminded of the way Cirro almost seemed to recognize Reed. She sent another look at Reed before turning back to the recalcitrant barkeep.

"I need to find him, Eckta," she stated clearly.

"I barely made repairs on the last…conversation…you had." Now he was glowering as he swept the floor and wiped the counter.

"That was hardly my fault," she snapped. "And you certainly could have stepped in! I'm surprised you're being so stubborn, considering the trouble Blue brought with him."

Musculature ripples indicated a shoulder shrug. "Everybody brings their own trouble," he noted. "You brought a Uni into my bar." Those black eyes rolled toward Malcolm as he filled a tray with liquid that smoked and handed it off to an alien female. "She can dress you up but you still smell like a lawman."

Malcolm lifted his chin. "We all have our burdens to bear."

That brought an oily chuckle out of the creature.

"Jase led not one but two groups of angry Unis to your door!" Andie broke in.

"We can defend ourselves." Eckta didn't seem upset as his other arms busily opened three bottles and swept the floor.

"Maybe," she shrugged, "But the damage will be expensive."

"Just like the last time you were here."

Getting frustrated, Andie's temper grew shorter. "Mind if I talk to Lor?" she huffed.

"He don't know nuthin'," Eckta grumbled.

"Then it won't hurt nuthin'!" she challenged. it seemed even her diction began to blend into the background as she took on the shorter, clipped way of speaking like the other patrons in the bar. "Wait here," she told Malcolm. "Keep an eye out."

He watched her move through the crowd until she reached the stage just as the green male called for a short break. Music was piped in through speakers as he hopped down and enveloped Andie in a bear hug. It seemed the doctor was a celebrity everywhere she went.

Turning back to the bar, Malcolm found those wet black eyes watching him as his other appendages took money and cleared empty glasses. He decided to take the initiative since Andie's efforts didn't appear to be yielding much good.

"How well do you know Jason Blau?" he asked the octopod.

"Well enough," Eckta hedged.

"Does he like you?" Malcolm questioned.

"Well enough," Eckta repeated.

"I don't think that's true," Malcolm refuted, laying a small black device on the counter and sipping his dark brew gingerly. "Do you know what this is?"

"Looks like small arms explosive," Eckta answered tersely, stiffening and bringing two other tentacles into view in case an attack was imminent. "How'd you get it in here?"

"I got it off Blau's ship," Malcolm answered conversationally. "I see he's been decorating in here." Nodding his head in two different directions, he indicated the same device attached to a sign and one hidden behind a lighting fixture. The difference between the device on the counter and the ones on the wall could be summed up with blinking red lights indicating their readiness to detonate. "He tagged your club. Are you going to let him get away with that?"

Eckta looked around. His sharp eyes caught three others littering his place. Fury at being marked by that humanoid boy brought his temper to a boil. "What do you want?"

"This right here," Malcolm pointed to a small square at the top of the explosive charge, "is a motion sensor. If you move it while armed, it'll go off. But it's a cheap model," he went on. "All you have to do is remove it like this." He demonstrated, breaking the extra chip off while leaving the connection intact.

Boiling black eyes watched him with a little more respect now. "So what do you want?" he repeated slowly.

Andie returned and was surprised to see the two getting along so famously, but that didn't stop her from jumping in. "Two ships of Unis will be showing up shortly. Let them in."

The tiny mouth tightened with disgust. "That's all? You want me to let Unis into my place?"

"The Unis will clean up the mess and then forget you ever existed," she told him. "If you delay them, they'll only come back."

"We take care of our own on the Reef," he rumbled darkly. He started to signal his own peacekeeping force.

"You kill him before the Unis get their justice and they will return with the intent to bring _you_ to justice," Malcolm stated clearly. Behind the make-up his gray eyes glittered with intensity.

"Unis always come back," Eckta sighed. "They never leave a squid in peace. They always come back." He turned to bark an order at a serving girl then returned his gaze to Andie. "He's in the back." Another muscular roll indicated the half-moon through which Jason had taken his friends. Black eyes rolled toward Andie. "Interesting cut of meat, you got here," he nodded at Malcolm. "I hope it works out better this time." He rolled away on two tentacles to take his body to the other side of the bar, leaning over to speak to the security chief who'd answered the signal.

"What did you say to make him like you?" she asked in wonder.

"What did he mean by 'better this time'?" Malcolm volleyed.

Reluctantly she forced to gaze to meet his. "I told you. We had a bad breakup." With a sigh, she picked up her glass of dark brown liquid and took a long drink. "Let's get this over with." She turned and started toward the indicated door.

As they rounded a corner on their path around the dance floor, Malcolm caught sight of a poster on the wall. It was old and faded but legible. A woman in very little clothing turned her head over one shoulder to peer at the audience as the caption encouraged folks to come see the Drago Rouche.

Malcolm stopped moving. A memory clicked in his head. No wonder everyone looked at him as though he'd been here before. Darting a glance around the room, he struggled to find a lie in the memory. He'd never been this far out in space. He'd never spoken to the octopus. Yet his mind was certain. The tables had been covered in gold before. At Andie's expectant look, he forced his feet to move ahead. The room was round and by changing his location in it, he changed his perspective on a lot of things.

Suddenly he was keen on keeping his head down. He wanted to get this over with and get back to the safety of his ship.

Ducking through the red swags that cut this door off from the main floor, Malcolm followed the woman in red into the hidden room.

* * *

Six hours was a long time to pace back and forth in one room. Porthos got tired of swinging his head this way and that and rested it gently on his pillow as Archer made multiple passes, muttering under his breath about the things he was going to do to his recalcitrant doctor when she got back, including but certainly not limited to, a one-way ticket out the airlock.

T'Pol kept him informed of repairs which were progressing as quickly as Trip promised. They would have main power and weapons up and running within the hour, and a team in EV suits had used torches to open the shuttle bay doors. With the exception of the transporter, the ship seemed to be healing with magical speed but Hess assured him it would be repaired soon.

Still he paced back and forth. He'd tried to make himself useful by offering his services in Engineering, but his foul mood had caused Trip to politely ask him to leave under the guise of reassuring the captain that the trained engineers could do it faster. In addition to worrying about his ship, he had the beginnings of one humdinger of a headache.

"Captain?" T'Pol's soothing voice entered the room via loudspeaker. "Your presence is requested on the bridge."

He leaned over and hit the button. "On my way," he acknowledged. He allowed a small delay as he pulled a piece of cheese from the tray that resided in the cold stasis unit in his quarters and tossed it to a happy canine. "Stay!" he commanded gently, happy to know that unlike some of his human counterparts, Porthos would do what he was told until the captain told him otherwise.

The trip to the bridge was quick and he entered with a confidant step. "What's our status?" he barked, still thrilled to see his crew jump when he called out orders. He liked being captain of a starship.

"Main Engineering has brought power back online and we've altered course to coincide with the shuttle pod's last known course. Lt. Truax is confirming a small delay in the function of our weapons array, and there is a ship on the horizon." T'Pol was, as always, calm and methodical.

"What ship?" he asked, signaling the view screen to be brought online. A tiny speck at the farthest edge of their sensors indicated that it was too large to be the shuttle pod.

"It's moving toward us very fast, Captain," Mayweather announced, studying the sensors in front of him.

"I believe it's the other ship, Captain," Hoshi offered, listening intently in her earpiece. "The one that was attacking the _Jaynie Blue_." She looked at the Captain. "It seems they've come back."

Archer sighed. He'd attacked a ship that looked like it was picking on another only to discover that the ship being attacked probably had good reason to warrant it. This was going to be complicated. "Hail them, Hoshi," he commanded. "Try and sound...friendly."

"There are more ships coming into range, Captain!" Mayweather called out. The view screen captured the three other ships coming in to flank the first and they were heading straight for the NX-01.

"Have the weapons come online yet?" Archer turned to ask Ensign Behr, wishing that Truax had opted to sit on the bridge instead of overseeing the repairs.

"No, sir. Not yet," Behr denied, looking with wide eyes over the readings he was receiving from his computer terminal. These other three ships were much more heavily armed, and he informed the captain nervously.

"They may not be interested in harming us, Captain," T'Pol suggested. "They may be more interested in finding the freighter."

"Send them a message, Hoshi," Archer instructed. "Ask them if they're interested in working together to find the ones that attacked our ships."

The ensign complied.

Time stretched everyone's nerves to the breaking point as they waited for acknowledgment.

"Weapons are functioning, sir," Behr noted with relief. "Shall I bring the phase cannons online?"

Archer considered that option as he watched the ships charge at him without flinching. "Not yet," he commanded, trying to quash the instinct to hit at them before they were destroyed by the multiple ships approaching. The decision wasn't something he would have even considered before his time spent in the Expanse, but then a lot of things had changed since then.

"We are a ship of peaceful exploration," he told the bridge crew. "Let's not fire until we have to."

"Captain," T'Pol interrupted. "The decaying impulse signature of the shuttle pod leads to the asteroid belt." She checked her scans again. "It seems to disappear as it reaches the rocks. Perhaps they are giving off some sort of magnetic interference."

"Open a channel to the opposition, Hoshi," Archer commanded. He cleared his throat and began. "Greetings to the alien vessels approaching! This is Captain Archer of the starship Enterprise. We're sorry about the misunderstanding before, but I believe we have the same agenda. We were also attacked by the freighter and we've managed to track them to the asteroid belt. I believe we can work together to resolve this matter peacefully."

"There will be no peace!" A voice commanded with great authority. "You have attacked a Daihan ship! You have aided the escape of a known terrorist! You have hindered the rescue of the Saimei. You must be punished for your treasonous actions!"

"The captain of the freighter has taken two of my crew hostage!" Archer told them. He hoped that wasn't a lie. "I didn't know he was a terrorist! If we combine our efforts, we can bring them to justice without further loss of life!"

"We will not trust the word of a common captain!" the imperious voice announced. "We refuse your offer with contempt. We will continue our rescue of the Daihan and hear no more of your lies of cooperation! Stay out of our way or we will open fire!"

Archer frowned. "We intend to travel to the asteroid belt. If you feel this strongly about it, perhaps you should stay out of _our_ way!" He signaled Hoshi to cut off transmission.

"Are they charging weapons?" he asked Behr.

"No, sir," Behr announced, wiping his sweaty palms on his pant leg surreptitiously.

"Are we picking up human bio-signs in the asteroid belt?" he asked T'Pol.

"We are not picking up any signs from the asteroids," she confirmed.

"Captain?" Hoshi had a hand to the device in her ear. "We're receiving a transmission."

"The...Daihan ship?" he asked, relieved that they might be coming around.

"No sir," she announced. "The signal is coming from inside the largest asteroid." With an odd glance she put the message on audio.

"Lawman's' vessel," the oily voice announced. "Prepare to receive flight trajectory and docking coordinates. If we receive any indication that you are powering up your weapons, we will destroy you. Enter the Reef at your own risk."

Archer drew a deep breath and cautiously let it out as the transmission ended.

"The asteroid seems to be the best estimation of the shuttle pod's destination," T'Pol offered her own opinion.

"Will we sustain damage if we enter?"

"It doesn't seem likely with the coordinates they sent," Mayweather announced, checking his readings.

"What about the Daihan ships?" he asked.

"They appear to be moving to a different position," Mayweather replied. "I think they're going to try and come in through another direction."

_At least we won't have to worry about taking on two enemies at once_, Jon thought. _At least, not yet._ He hoped the blind faith that Admiral Gardiner seemed to bestow upon the doctor was worth it. Either that or he hoped that Reed had managed to hog-tie her already.

"Polarize the hull plating and take her in," he announced, sitting gingerly on the captain's chair in anticipation of a bumpy ride.


	42. Chapter 42

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 42

* * *

Andie started through the curtain but was pushed back into the club by an angry female.

"Sorry," said the heavily accented woman, while twirling a finger around her horns to draw attention to their sharp corners. "This is a private room. No admission."

Andie smiled a chilling smile. "I can go in. We're old friends."

The horned woman scoffed. "He don't need no old friends. He got new ones," she smirked, rubbing her thigh so as to leave no confusion as to the kind of new friend she was.

Clenching her jaw, Andie started to brush past the woman but was pushed back again with more force. Turning to Malcolm, she made as if to shrug and walk away, but when, out of the corner of her eye she witnessed the doorkeeper step forward to shoo her along, Andie's fist spun around and connected solidly with the unsuspecting face, driving the girl backward to slide down the wall.

Reed nodded with absent-minded approval. He stared at the heavy door in front of him and hated the thought of walking into the well-laid plans of a known pirate, one who'd managed to evade the security forces on his ship. He didn't want to just follow the path laid out for him. He had an idea about providing his own surprises.

Malcolm slipped a concerned hand against the strip of bare skin at Andie's waist, preventing her from waltzing in the door. "Will you be all right in there?" he whispered in her ear. Her skin was much warmer than his hand.

Slowly she looked at him. "You're leaving me now?" she asked incredulously. Her stomach dropped into her shoes. It had been foolish to assume that he would stand at her side through all this cloak and dagger stuff.

"There's something I have to take care of," he answered without really saying anything. He enjoyed throwing that habit back at her just a bit. "I'll be right back."

Even though he didn't like her, he waited for her assenting nod, waited for her chameleon eyes, hidden by the mask of paint, to darken with purpose. He felt like he was throwing her to the wolves. For one second she looked so small, like she deflated. When she spoke the perception of fragility disappeared and she was as tough as she ever was.

"You should have gone before we left the ship," she sneered, misunderstanding his need for privacy as a need to relieve himself. "Head's over there," she indicated with a nod, using the nautical term for bathroom.

A half-smile played on his lips but he didn't correct the misassumption.

Drawing her big gun, she gulped a deep breath of air and stepped purposefully through the door while Reed faded into the shadows, looking at the crowded room behind him. The unwanted memories crowded in.

He had been here before, more than a decade ago in another lifetime. An obsession with bringing his dead girlfriend's killers to justice had brought him to Starfleet, then into the hands of a group that believed that in making tough choices to maintain the stability of the government. At the time they were everything that Malcolm had been looking for. In secret they brought him into their group, and trained him. Eventually they had taken him into the emptiness of space near the Sol system, also in secret even from the authority they were sworn to protect. There he had waged a hard campaign against piracy and all its alliances. It had taken its toll on his state of mind.

That war on unlawful conduct had brought him here, where the name of the man responsible for Eleanor's death was almost in his grasp, only to have it elude him again when the informant who was to have handed over the information suddenly evacuated the station.

Andie was right; Eckta's Reef was a space station, complete with warp engines and navigational logs. It used to reside in an asteroid belt close to the Vulcan homeworld, but somehow made its way across the stars to linger here, just close enough to _Enterprise_ to allow one doctor, a former pirate, to slip away from the ship and secrete herself inside the stone walls. She sought refuge in a place that tormented Malcolm's darkest nightmares and kept the fear of failure in the forefront of his mind.

Upon recognizing the poster on the wall, he'd been fighting the urge to abandon the doc with her own kind and try to learn the whereabouts of the informant he sought from one of these barflies. Reed tried reminding himself that he'd left lawlessness behind when he left the Section, but his mind was quick to point out how easily he remembered the old ways less than a year ago when his law-abiding captain had ordered him to turn to piracy to take a warp coil from a peaceful ship, stranding those passengers in dangerous space at the mercy of other pirates far less civilized than Archer's crew.

He had worked so hard since he left the Section and returned to Earth to live a good life. He followed the rules, paid special mind to the regulations, he maintained order and discipline. Yet with one single poster on the wall his unrequited need for revenge resurfaced.

Malcolm looked down at the female just beginning to stir on the floor at his feet. She caught sight of him and scrambled backward on all fours, trying to get away. Easily he reached down and grabbed her arms, pulling her to her feet.

"What is he planning to do?" Malcolm asked her in a firm but gentle tone.

She refused to speak.

"You're defending a man who just left you at the door while he reunited with his old girlfriend," Malcolm pointed out.

"Men always leave," she muttered. "They never stay long."

That rhetoric sounded strangely familiar. "He didn't just leave you for another woman. He left you in a station that is about to become a distant fiery memory," Malcolm went on. "Did you know he rigged the bar to blow up?"

She glared at him, blowing upward to move a strand of hair out of her eye, unable to brush it away because of the way he held her. Releasing her arms, he smoothed the lock away from her face, brushing it behind one horn. She watched him guardedly.

"Where is he going?" he asked again softly.

Sullenly she answered, confused by the tenderness in his touch. "There's an exit to a cargo bay through that door," she indicated with a nod of her chin. "It leads to a landing pad."

"Thank you," he tilted his head in thanks to her before releasing her arms and stepping away. He stopped before he got to the door. "Have you seen the Drago Rouche around lately?"

The female eyed him warily as if it was some sort of trick. "The Drago Rouche is around here somewhere," she admitted reluctantly. "What's it to you?"

"Never mind," he brushed her curiosity away. "Tell no one we've spoken."

"He left me for another woman," she pointed out cynically. "I'm no longer beholden to his secrets."

If Malcolm had wondered if it was possible for Jason Blau to be dumber than he already thought him to be, then that answer confirmed it. He was leaving a nasty trail behind him, and as Malcolm was beginning to realize, the past always followed its own footsteps.

* * *

Andie felt a sense of déjà vu as she stepped through the door. The table was set with the finest linens the Reef had to offer, topped with real china plates and heavy gold cutlery. A tall candelabrum decorated the centerpiece matching the domed lids of the serving trays from under which steam vented with the scent of something delicious. Once again Jason sat at the head of the table facing the door as she entered.

"I see you took your time getting here, as usual," Jase answered with a brush of irritation, standing to pour a glass of wine and offer it to her without closing the safe distance between them. Unlike the last time, she didn't step forward to take it. Exhaling loudly, he set it down for her to pick up if she wished before settling back in his chair.

There was nobody else in the room that she could see.

"Just like old times," Jase toasted and sipped from his own glass as his ex just stood watching him carefully as though he were a snake that might strike at any moment.

"Cut the crap," she gritted the words out through clenched teeth. "Where's the girl?"

"There is only one girl in the world for me," Jase smiled easily. He was handsome even if his dangerous lifestyle was beginning to strain his charms, and this method used to work quite well on the woman before him.

"There's only one girl _in the room_," Andie corrected jadedly. "There's another one outside the door."

His cerulean eyes narrowed, creasing the blue tint that surrounded his face. "You've brought your own boy with you," he pointed out, miffed. "Where's he?"

"Where's the girl?" she repeated. Her hand unconsciously gripped the pistol tighter in her hand.

"You're going to end this over some girl who deserves every thing bad that happens to her?" He was instantly furious.

"In case you hadn't noticed, this was over a long time ago."

"I lost everything! You lost everything! This will never be over!" he shouted, slamming his fist down on the table to emphasize his pain.

* * *

Malcolm's hope of slipping quietly through the door was destroyed by the patrons behind him. Eckta's men were discovered puttering with the explosive devices and everyone panicked, and made a beeline for the nearest exits, including the one he stood in front of. He was shoved against the wall as the tide of self-preservation kept the aliens moving forward, looking for any means to save their own skin.

Pushed back into the corner and in danger of being crushed by the door that swung open, Malcolm discovered a secret panel that opened into a small cupboard that was also the perfect spot for the words of the people in the room on the other side of the wall to carry to his listening ears as the stampede of people left an eerie silence in its wake.

Unable to resist, he pressed his ear against the partition and listened.

* * *

"It was never supposed to go down like that! I had an unbeatable hand!"

Malcolm recognized that cry as Blau's. There was an answer that didn't penetrate the walls. He credited that to Andie's soft tone. They raged on, oblivious to the fact that their conversation wasn't as private as they thought.

"How was I to know?" Jase shouted in both rage and shame.

"Nobody in their right mind gets in bed with Guiry!" she retorted. Her voice carried much better to the listener than it had before.

"I wouldn't have had to play if you hadn't screwed the job!"

"I wouldn't have screwed the job if you had just left me out of it!" she countered. "You knew I was against it!"

"If you had known about it," he countered with his own bitterness, "You would have tried to counsel me to change my ways. You're always looking out for me." He said it as though he hated her for it. "Now you're trying to act like one of them! You'll never be one of them, no matter how many times you put on the suit! Just like you never belonged here!"

Jase grinned wildly and there in the room, Andie began to wonder if he was losing his mind. "I'm going to take care of _you_ now, like I should have then," he promised fiercely. "I'll take care of you and make everything all right."

From inside the listening post, Malcolm heard another unintelligible mumble. From Jason's response, Malcolm could only assume that she had threatened him. The conversation had taken a dark turn, and it was time to stop listening and start acting. He gripped his pistol and slipped out of the secret door and quietly through the portal that had been pointed out to him.

* * *

Jase's hand reached under the table linen, and Andie's grip tightened on her sidearm. What he brought out wasn't a weapon, it was a hostage. Her face was streaked with tears and grime.

"I'm going to make everything even, and then you and I can start over," he promised, holding a knife to the neck of the girl.

"Killing her won't make it even," Andie warned him. "It'll just make you run."

"She'll pay for everything we lost!"

Exasperation made her snap. "She's been a prisoner inside the castle her whole life! She doesn't have any friends or make any decisions of her own! She didn't do anything! How does killing her help?"

"It helps _him_ realize what it's like to be alone!" Jason shouted.

"You're not alone now," she pointed out. "We're family. But if you hurt her then that's all over."

"You would betray me again?" he asked, wounded.

"I will always take care of you," she promised. "I owe you that."

That was the wrong thing to say. "I can take care of myself!" he cried out.

"Clearly!" she heard herself snap, hitting the same sarcastic tone as the Brit who usually said the same thing to her.

He pulled a pistol that was a replica of the one that remained clutched in her shaking hand and fired a round, disappearing through a door hidden by a tapestry, dragging his prisoner behind him.

Andie glanced over her shoulder once, but there was no time to call for Reed. Sighing she realized she was on her own again. At least it was familiar territory. Gripping her pistol, she raced out the door after him.

* * *

As soon as she exited the door, she was clothes-lined by Duomo, whose arm cut across her throat and knocked her flat onto her back. Gasping for air, she rolled instinctively to the side and avoided his heavy blow with a stick. One of her legs kicked out and caught him in the midsection and when he reeled backward, she arched her back and flipped onto her feet just in time to see Jason drag the girl through another door further down the corridor.

Facing Duomo, she swung her steel toed boot high, meaning to connect with soft portion of his nose. She missed entirely as he caught her foot. He delivered his own punch to her stomach that sent her reeling across the wide corridor to slide down the wall on the other side.

Struggling for breath she could only watch him advance on her with dark intentions in his eyes. A flash of movement caught her gaze and she was relieved to see Reed step out of the shadows holding Duomo's stick in his hands. Two quick blows struck the bald creature in the back of the neck and the base of the spine. The alien howled and turned. He was much taller and muscular than the tactical officer, but Reed showed no fear. He traded punches and blocked fists although the weight of the larger man drove him back against the wall. The stick was dropped and forgotten on the ground.

Andie struggled to her feet, refusing to give in to the pain. It seemed Duomo didn't share the sentimentality of his boss for her well-being and this fight was going to be close. His fist connected with the wall a half second after Reed dropped to his knees to avoid it. From his crouched position, his movement was severely hampered. Andie picked up the stick and it connected with the nape of Duomo's aching neck, buying Reed time to maneuver out of the way as Duomo turned and struck Andie to the other side of the passageway again.

With his back turned, Reed delivered a kick at the back of the alien's knees, but they didn't buckle as he expected. Duomo only turned to strike at the human, knocking Reed to the floor. Andie struggled with the slingshot she'd slipped into the harness around her back, slipping a small canister from the medical lab into the space for the projectile. As Reed scrambled backward on his hands and feet like a crab, she fired a tranquilizer dart that pierced Duomo's hide at the soft portion of his shoulder.

Roaring he turned around to face her as she struggled to her feet. She tightened her grip on the dart gun and stood her ground as he advanced fiercely, unfortunately not showing any signs of weariness after her dosage. He grabbed the wrist that held the gun and the weapon fell to the ground. She grabbed at the detaining grip and struggled for release.

Reed leaped on the back of the larger creature, trying to choke the oxygen from its lungs. Duomo released Andie's wrist as he tried to pry off the arms and allow air in his throat. The lizard-like qualities he exhibited in his physical appearance were manifested as spikes were thrust out of his skin along the length of his spine, piercing Reed who let go with a cry of pain.

Duomo spun around to try and capture Andie but she moved quickly, using defensive maneuvers that kept her hands just out of his reach. His hands didn't seem to work as agilely as they had done before. All of a sudden she took a large step back and yanked on something in her hand. Duomo screeched in rage as the dura-strength wire from her gloves snapped simultaneously at her tug and brought both his hands together as surely as if he'd been clapped in irons. Glancing down in confusion he saw the half-moon of stone caught in his sleeve, trailing the wire behind it as it looped several times around his wrists. The glove fell from her right hand as the tracings were released and she smirked.

"_Naneckto ghandti_, dumbass!" she snarled. "Never without permission!" Shaking hands picked up the pistol she'd dropped when he hit her the first time and fired twice at the man she once called friend. He fell unconscious to the floor.

Reed sat upright in time to see the alien fall down with his hands tied in front of him. "Dura-strength wire? Not a garrote?" he heaved in deep breaths of air, surprised at her resourcefulness.

"I like to have the option," she gasped, forcing her knees to carry her weight to his fallen form. After checking the small holes that Duomo's spines had pierced in his skin, she told Reed that he would live, but she loaded a hypo-spray with something from her pocket and injected it anyway.

"Good to see you," she acknowledged. "He's got the girl. He went that way," she nodded at the door.

"Then let's go get him," Reed climbed to his feet and offered her a hand up. She pulled the dart free of Duomo's shoulder and slipped the empty tube in her pocket. She replaced the dart gun in her harness before they slipped through the door.

* * *

They entered a large room full of cargo crates.

"You could park the NX-01 in here," Reed breathed in awe. Before him was a maze of crates that created walkways and dead ends. Finding them wouldn't be easy.

"That way," she stated assertively. "It's the most direct route back to the large docking ports."

"Well then," Reed cocked an eyebrow. "After you." He swept an arm in gentlemanly fashion to allow her to precede him, grinning at the opportunity for misfortune to befall her first.

To his amusement she gave him a dirty look before leading the way. Malcolm followed her progress at a slower pace, giving him the chance to spy traps before they were both caught in them. He could appreciate that his companion was swift but not entirely careless as she ran through the narrow alleyways, dodging piles of garbage while trying to soften her footfalls in the heavy boots without slipping on the refuse-slicked paths.

Toady fired at her as she came around a corner. She dodged behind a crate and returned fire. Toady dodged to the right, putting him directly in Malcolm's crosshairs. The blue bolt of light caused the frog's head to explode outwardly.

A funny sound made Malcolm signal Andie to hold still. He indicated the direction the sound had come from and they went to investigate. He swiveled around the corner first and froze. She covered him from behind and they both stood still.

Toady was standing there, although not the Toady that was still in pieces on the floor behind them. This one was in the process of mitosis, dividing himself in half to form a completely separate and identical twin. The second head arched off the main body, stifling the cry of pain that cloning itself caused.

"Oh," Andie muttered in disgust. "That's just not right."

Malcolm stared, horrified. "That's how he got so much work done on _Enterprise_. He spawned more of himself."

"I don't think we need any more of them," Andie stated with certainty, and preparing to fire her pistol and blow up both portions of his dividing body. So intent on this scientific oddity, neither noticed the third thief remove himself from cover until it was too late.

Boner landed right behind her and threw her across the room by yanking on a handful of her hair. She squealed and Malcolm dodged the energy blast meant to render him inert. Toady wasn't so agile, being in the process of splitting in two at the time. Boner's blast split him in threes and all his bodies fell to the floor and remained still.

Having failed to take them both out, Boner backed up and jerked Andie to her feet, using her as a shield to protect him from the dark-haired officer's aim. "Fire at me and you'll hit the girl!" Boner taunted.

Malcolm nodded. "I can live with that," he agreed.

Andie grunted in anger. "You idiot! He'd be happy to shoot me! You should have picked a better hostage."

"Oh, I've got the right one all right." From behind her, his tongue reached out to lick the skin on her neck. "We'll be a lot closer when this is over. Pity Blue's gonna think you died in the fight. We'll have all kinds of time to get acquainted."

"I already know too much about you," she shuddered in revulsion. Her hand worked in front of her, removing a slender knife from the harness over her shoulder.

"I know too much about you too," Boner grinned, reaching his left arm around her to stop the movement of her right hand. His other hand fastened tightly on the red braid of hair and yanked her head toward the ceiling, baring her throat. "Don't touch anything."

"You're pulling my hair!" she cried out, her hand reaching up to grip his.

Boner used that opportunity to let his hand run freely across her midsection. He wasn't paying attention to the hand that removed the long stick from her braid, and missed the rapid descent of her arm. He was leering at Malcolm but didn't recognize the shifting of his hand for the readjustment of his grip on the pistol that it was; he assumed that the man was squirming because his lady was being manhandled.

He wasn't paying attention to the right motions until pain exploded in his thigh and when he released her navel to clutch at the weapon, she thrust an elbow backward into his damaged shoulder and threw her body on the ground when he let go. Malcolm fired the weapon and Boner flew backward into a stack of crates and relaxed into unconsciousness.

"I'll take care of him," Andie gasped for breath, unknotting the strings on her second glove to wrap Boner's arms in dura-strength wire. "You follow the hostage." She touched her head where a smear of blood seeped through from a gash sustained when she'd been jerked backward.

Dubiously he considered the woman before him, wondering if she would torment this sadistic creature further, and wondering if it mattered if she did. His scanner showed an alley where the debris from a broken crate created the illusion of a blocked path, and determined that Jason must have gone that direction. "Don't do anything you'll regret later," he cautioned.

She nodded absently. "That's good advice." The bindings on Boner's wrist were tightened to be sure of their strength.

He squeezed her shoulder as he passed by, climbing over the debris and taking off at a run after the man who dared assault his ship.

* * *

Jase ran ahead, puffing with the exertion of dragging the female behind him. She kept trying to fall on her knees and plead with him, and it was sapping his energy to keep her upright. He heard a series of blasts behind him and moved faster. Red was supposed to have fallen behind by now. Duomo had never been beaten in a fair fight, and Toady's ability to clone his body had always been an unpleasant surprise for the crews trying to hold onto their cargo. His conscience cringed at leaving Boner behind, but he felt confidant that his particular techniques would not be necessary.

A blast on the crate ahead of him showered splinters around him and he skidded to a halt. The human male who spent so much time following Andie around her ship was behind him.

"Don't move!" commanded the human. "Release the girl!"

"Well which is it?" Jase snapped. "Don't move or release the girl? I can't do both!" His eyes flickered up and down the human form before spitting in jealousy. "You're not her type!"

Malcolm maneuvered around the man who was cornered. The female cried in piteous silence. Jase pulled her around to stand in front of him and brought a knife blade up to her throat. The lieutenant stopped moving.

"I can give you anything you want!" Jase tried bargaining.

"Give me the Drago Rouche," Malcolm commanded. At the moment, it was the second thing he wanted most, the first wish was to be back aboard his ship with his crew.

Confusion flickered in Blau's eyes. "What?" he countered, completely at a loss.

Behind them a grenade went off and both men turned to look. It was too far away to do them any harm, but it made quite a nice distraction for the female who'd climbed a stack of nearby crates and had tracked them from overhead.

The men returned their attention to one another, but Jase got a nasty surprise when Malcolm's eyes widened. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Red standing right behind him, having made no sound at all to indicate her arrival.

Shifting his weight to the left, he held the hostage by a fistful of her hair, and she didn't struggle against the blade that glistened against her throat. "I must be slowing down," Jase panted.

"Yeah," Andie agreed. "You're getting old. I'm getting better," she sneered. "Let me help you. Let the girl go."

"I can't," he exhaled forcefully. "You let me believe you were dead!" He spit out the words with revulsion. "I mourned you! You just left me behind!"

Malcolm used the distraction to creep closer to Jase on his left. He had a strange feeling of empathy for the distraught man. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.

"I had nobody," Jase said. The relief he felt at no longer being alone seeped into his voice. "I took her so _he_ would know what it's like to be alone." He tugged on the dark hair.

Andie pursed her lips. "Do you think that's a good idea? She's been alone too." She met the eyes of the hostage. "They keep her in a tower. She doesn't see anything or hear anything or know anything they don't want her to. You think killing her will make what happened all right?"

"I'm not the man you thought I was," Jase admitted. "I never was that good. Her death will make them understand. If I can't get away from here, it's okay. At least she'll die at the same time. You and I'll be together in the next life," he announced grimly before producing the small black box and pressing the biggest red light.

An explosion rocked through the gap in the shipping crates, knocking them all to the ground, but it came from the direction of Jason's current path, not from behind him as he expected.

Andie was the first to recover. Scrambling to her knees, she pulled a short knife from her harness and threw it with precision. It buried itself in his forearm and the alien fell out of his grasp. Scurrying forward, Andie grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her away from her captor, placing herself in between them, pressing the hostage back against another row of containers.

"Did you just try to blow up the club?" she asked incredulously. "You're a dead man!"

"What did you do?" he shrieked his hands now empty, his plan lying in ashes.

A large pistol lay on the ground in between them and both Andie and Jase scrambled for it. Jase won when Andie hesitated. The guns were genetically coded to a specific DNA and if it wasn't hers, she would inflict pain on herself. Jason showed no such fear, scooping up the gun and pointing it at his ex-girlfriend.

Fury lit his eyes on fire. "I'll kill you for this!"

"You don't want to be making threats you can't keep," she warned him in a dangerous tone. "In fact, now might be a good time to do what you do best and try to save your own ass."

"Don't move!" They turned to find Reed standing with his phase pistol pointed at the blue man. He had struggled to his feet in the wake of the explosion and gathered his own weapon.

Jase looked at Andie with a smirk. "You don't belong with _them_ anymore than I do," he told her. "He's actually looking for the Drago..."

His words were cut off with a quick blast from Malcolm's phase pistol that burned into the crate behind him. By shifting his weight he was in a better position to flee through the narrow hole.

The hostage cried out in fear and Andie couldn't move further ahead without leaving her unprotected, a move that she was certain Jase would take advantage of. With a cold smile, the kidnapper moved to slip through the gap in the crates and continue toward the landing pad.

"Stop!" Malcolm commanded raising his weapon. "You have nowhere to go!"

He watched Jason slip through the narrow corridor.

Reed pressed forward in pursuit. "Are you all right?" he asked, pausing to look at the ladies.

"Go!" Andie waved a hand. "We'll be fine." She curled an arm around the frightened female.

Reed didn't waste time pursuing the blue man through the narrow crevice.

* * *

"Your ladies are waiting," Andie told the former hostage.

"I know who you are," the princess breathed, taking a long look at her newest protector. "You are the Shu'shai, daughter of the great healer."

"You are mistaken," Andie told her.

"I have come looking for you!" Daraja insisted. "You are the reason I am here." She faced Andie. "I believe we can do something important for each other."

"What did you have in mind?" Andie asked.

* * *

Jason reached the end of the cargo bay and found the door to the landing pad with relief. He turned around and fired his pistol, bringing crates down in front of Malcolm and slowing him down long enough for Jase to make it through the portal. Frantically he raced across the tarmac, making tracks for freedom and he ran as though pursued by Hell itself. He intended to take whatever ship was sitting there and get away from all this.

He didn't get very far.

Picking up speed as he passed by the last obstacle, Jase ran headlong into a waiting throng, headed up by a formidable man in a blue jumpsuit holding a pistol. The green-eyed man was surrounded by hard men dressed in gray, each holding a firearm with deadly intent.

"Going somewhere?" Archer asked. "I think you missed your flight." The docking port visible through the main portal was empty but the exposed the debris and wreckage that used to be Jase's ship drifted aimlessly through the air, depositing bits and pieces on the tarmac around them. The MACO's surrounded the thief and he dropped to his knees in surrender.


	43. Chapter 43

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 43

* * *

Archer and Reed led the security detail back into the hollowed out rock that served as Eckta's bar. Jase, Toady and Boner were all in chains and looking outraged. Eckta caught a look at them from behind his bar and smirked.

"Cold night, eh?" the squid taunted. "Should'a stayed by the fire."

Blau's face hardened with hatred, but it only made Eckta chuckle. Words weren't necessary to understand that Eckta had found the charges and transported them to Blau's ship. He then released the docking clamps, allowing the ship to drift upward, thereby limiting damage to the space station. It was a maneuver that both had seen before.

"My name is Captain Archer," the commanding officer introduced himself to the squid. "Where's Andie?"

"Don't know no An-yee," Eckta answered, mispronouncing the unusual name.

"Have you seen Red?" Malcolm interjected. "She was supposed to come back here."

"Red goes her own way," Eckta smirked. "She don't check in wi't me."

"Perhaps she went to retrieve the others," Malcolm shrugged at the captain. "I'm sure she'll be along shortly."

"She has a habit of running out," Jase muttered from his guarded position. "She's already long gone."

Eckta slithered across the floor and used one of his thickest tentacles to strike the blue humanoid to the ground. "That's for your part in it!" he hissed.

Immediately the MACO's surrounded the fallen man, raising weapons to keep the angry bartender at bay. With the same sudden swiftness, several creatures emerged from the shadows to stand at Eckta's back, holding weapons at the human crew.

"Hold your fire!" Archer commanded. He waved at the men to remain still, and stepped forward to face the squid, trying hard not to gawk at the unusual creature. "We'll need someplace to keep these men until we can take them back to our ship."

"They ain't goin' wi't you," Eckta growled. His men assumed more threatening stances as the squid nodded at Blue. "He owes me a lot of money; therefore he belongs to me."

"He's a person," Archer argued. "He doesn't belong to anyone."

"In my place," Eckta gestured at the bar, "his life is forfeit to the one he caused the most trouble."

"Well, then," a new voice broke in, "By those standards, Jason Blau belongs to me."

* * *

Andie took the Princess Daraja back to the shuttle pod where she had a joyous reunion with her ladies. They all followed Andie willingly back to the bar. There were fewer people in the halls than there were before; the firefight and explosion having frightened off the more skittish of customers. The rest had simply taken cover until it was over.

Slipping down into the remains of the marketplace, Andie found Cirro peering through the inner door at the altercation brewing between his boss and the humans. She waved the females through the door and motioned them to take refuge in a nearby booth and draw the curtains around them. They went unnoticed.

Facing Cirro, she shoved him against the wall. He stared at her evenly. She asked the question that had begun to take precedence in her mind. "How do you know him?"

Cirro shrugged negligently. "I don't remember."

"I warned you not to lie to me," she told him coldly, reaching for a weapon. "And he's not here to stop me now."

In spite of his best efforts, Cirro shuddered. People who tangled with Red sometimes disappeared for good. "He went by a different name then," he stuttered nervously.

"What name? When?" Her hand paused from baring the blade.

"About six _cycla _ago, he was here with other Shadows. They called him Raven."

Blinking slowly she processed that information. "Noir? Ran with Shadows? Here?"

Cirro nodded. "It was around the time you left."

Her forehead creased in confusion. "What was his business?"

Cirro shrugged. "You know I don't get involved. I live longer that way."

"Are any of the Shadows still around?" she wondered, trying to figure out what 'strictly by the book' Reed was doing catting around with mercenaries.

A head shake was all she could get out of him, his lower lip protruding in a way that meant he was about to get belligerent.

Andie would have attempted to pry more information out of him, but the sound of outraged voices brought her attention back to what had become a Nausicaan standoff.

She stepped inside and announced her intention to take possession of the prisoner.

* * *

"You gonna take him?" Eckta questioned dubiously.

"You know of anyone else who deserves him more?" she countered. There were several discreet snickers around the room as the lawless found her remark funny.

"You gonna take _all_ he owes?" Eckta questioned again, with a shrewd gleam in his eye.

"How much?" she asked, staring at Blau who couldn't stop the grin from stretching across his face, relieved that she was coming to his aid once again.

"_Gyma ganudo_," Eckta's smile was greasy. He enjoyed the way she considered the debt with a stubborn glare, the same way she studied his face. He knew she could see the way his eyes slithered over her body. The blue one was an idiot, but the red one always knew what was what.

She hesitated long enough that Jason's smile slid off his face. "I'm sure we can work something out," she agreed reluctantly. Snapping her fingers at him as though he was a pet, she commanded Jason to her side.

He rose willingly but the MACO's stopped him.

"Where are you planning to take him?" Archer demanded, holding Blau back from his rush to the arms of his girl.

"If he stays with you, he dies," she told the captain.

"So you're going to take him with you? Where will you go?" Jon was not happy with this turn of events.

"You promised he would answer for his crimes!" Malcolm burst out. "You gave your word!"

Her eyes glittered in the shadows the make-up created. "This is not about revenge," she repeated her words. Andie glared stubbornly at Malcolm for a moment, and then snapped at Jason again.

The blue man moved and the MACO's prevented him. Malcolm stared very hard at Andie. The moment hung heavy between them. Security on both sides readjusted their grips on their guns. The humans were outgunned and that was only taking into account the guns they could see.

"Let him go," Malcolm waved off the guards.

Archer objected. "Where are you taking him?" He turned to his tactical officer. Andie had lived with pirates. That information explained a lot about her. Although he wasn't sure he wanted her back on board his ship, it didn't seem right to let her go.

Reed fumed silently. He'd heard her say she always took care of Blau; he didn't know if this was one of those times. He just hadn't expected her to rescue the blue bugger.

Turning his head between his tactical officer and his doctor was beginning to make Archer dizzy as they sized each other up with dark glares. In the end he knew he trusted the lieutenant. He waved off the MACO's and Jase beamed triumphantly. Cocky in his position, he fired off a finger gun at Malcolm as he slipped through the alien blockade to stand before Andie, shifting his wrists in their restraints.

"I knew you wouldn't leave me behind," he smirked. "You'll never change."

"Yup, you called it. I would never leave you." Andie turned and led him across the empty dance floor in the direction of the backstage door. When they were nearly at the edge of the room, she stopped. "We're even aren't we?" She looked at him earnestly. "I mean, I betrayed you; you betrayed me. You threw me out of my home; yours got blown up. You attacked my ship; I attacked your men." She stared at him steadily. "We're even, right?"

"Sure, Red. We're on equal footing." Her questions were making him nervous. "I'm yours," he grinned, holding up his bound hands again. Her serious attitude was making him uneasy.

"Equal footing," she mused. "I like that." Gesturing him to take the lead, she waited until he was in front of her then swung a hard boot at him and kicked the wind out of his lungs. Her second blow knocked his knees right out from under him, dropping him to the floor in front of her.

Grabbing a handful of his blue hair, she pulled his head back until he was looking straight up at the ceiling. "If we're even, do you know where you went wrong?"

Behind her there was a scuffle as MACO's vied for a position to take a shot at her. Eckta's gang stopped them.

"You were going to kill the SaiMei, but you were keeping the other six to be sold as slaves, weren't you?" She fingered the dirty medallion around his neck. It bore a horizontal eight with a line through the middle. It was an exact match to one she had once worn. "I have a personal distaste for slavery. You know that, but that's how you think to exact your revenge? That was sloppy."

Jason heard the soft _swick _as the familiar knife was slipped out of its holster. He managed to twist his head around and catch a glimpse of the gleaming blade as she brought it to rest under his chin.

"Do you know my penalty for enslaving young girls?" she asked dangerously.

"What?" he whimpered. He was beginning to think he didn't understand her at all.

"The penalty is…" the blade whisked along his skin and he cried out as a bolt of light cut across the top of his head, "…obedience!"

Andie stood holding the dull medal swinging on the end of its broken leather band in her hand and glanced at the far wall where Reed's phase pistol blast had burned a hole. She looked back over her shoulder at the dark-haired man who couldn't take his eyes off the sobbing man still on his knees, clutching at his undamaged throat.

"Your life belongs to me, yes?" She looked down at her old friend, finally releasing her grip on his hair.

"Yes!" He gulped air with relief. "I belong to you! All that I have is yours!"

"_Denou hai, SaiMei_." She spoke the words into the dim light on the far side of the bar, and the red curtains were drawn back to reveal the slender young woman who stood with ramrod straight spine and walked as though on air to the couple on the dance floor.

"_Hai me denai, Shu'shai,_" the princess answered, slipping the heavy jeweled collar from Traia's neck and binding it around Jason's in the space where his necklace had formerly resided.

"No!" he screamed, realizing too late what the intentions of his compadre had been.

"You are now a slave to the princess of Daihan," Andie told him with a smile. "Serve her better than you served me."

There was no time for further explanation as another figure stormed through the doors, followed by an army of gunmen.

* * *

The King of Daihan was an imposing figure who paid no attention to anyone else in the room. He ignored Eckta's call for identification and Archer's attempts to be diplomatic and crossed the room in great strides to stand before Daraja who cringed in spite of her best intentions not to.

"_Mei_, you are safe?" he demanded, pinning her chin between thumb and forefinger and looking sternly into her eyes.

"_Si, Dai_," she replied. "I am safe, thanks to..."

"This is he?" The King turned to Jase who hadn't even shifted from his knees since he'd been brought so low. Without waiting for an answer, the King immediately drew a curved scimitar sword from his belt and raised it in the name of justice.

The princess stepped in front of her father with her hands held out. "You cannot, _SaiDai_," she protested. The king only paused with his sword high in the air, poised for strike. "He is mine." She gestured to the jeweled collar the blue man now wore.

What followed was a volume of cursing that had only ever been matched by Andie when she was in a foul mood. The king cursed his daughter loudly for being so stupid as to take this creature as a gift, and he cursed her for being so easily led. His hand rose to strike his child, and Andie stepped in front of her without fear. It didn't stop the king's hand. The blow knocked her clear around in a circle before dropping her on her knees. Archer's crew was now being held back by the Daihan Guard as Andie struggled to her feet. Her stomach turned over with the pain of the blow, but she stood stock still as the king raised his hand again and dealt her another.

Archer managed to maneuver around the guardsmen and rushed over to intervene. A strong hand around her upper arm helped draw Andie to her feet after the second blow. "You can't do that to my doctor!" he protested loudly.

By gritting her teeth she managed to stand upright as Daraja and her father were suddenly engaged in a long conversation in their own tongue. Their words flew too fast for the translators to pick up but it was a heated debate that included heads turning in the direction of both Andie and Jason.

"Are you okay?" Jon whispered in her ear. Her face was stark white except for the large red mark that covered half her face in the shape of a hand print.

Stubbornly she kept her attention straight ahead, focused on the king. "Didn't hurt," she grunted mulishly.

"You're a bad liar," he whispered, relieved that she felt well enough to be obstinate and prideful. "Do you know what they're arguing about?"

The miniscule head shake she offered him wasn't a denial that she understood, but a deferment of the information. She continued to stand at military rest with her hands folded behind her until the conversation seemed to wind down.

The king turned his dark eyes on Archer. "We will speak of satisfactory settlement for your pertinence now," he informed the captain. "Provide a room, _Shu'shai_."

One quick glance at Eckta and Andie directed the king to the private dining room where she'd previously met with Jase. Several of Eckta's staff rushed in to clear the debris and bring new linens and refreshments, and the Kings' Guard made certain to peer in every corner to be sure the room was safe for the sovereign.

Daraja and her father took several steps away and conversed quietly. Archer took the time to talk to his doctor.

"What the hell just happened?"

Despite the ringing pain in her ears and the stiffening of her jaw, Andie pieced together the information for him. "Jason kidnapped Daraja and her ladies. The ladies were put in stasis chambers and the SaiMei was kept in his quarters, but she was not excessively harmed by him. He seemed to prefer to yell at her more than to abuse her. She explained that I am a valued member of your crew and flew immediately to her rescue as soon as I knew of her plight. She begs forgiveness on behalf of your ship for your assault of a royal vehicle."

"They didn't identify themselves," Archer frowned.

"It doesn't matter," Andie told him with slight amusement. "He is the SaiDai, ordained as king and god of all heaven and earth. It is your business to know him, not his to know you. Although I'm sure you'll get off easy. Just remember to state all your thoughts as facts, don't apologize or correct yourself when wrong, and do not lift one finger to help yourself. If you need a glass of water, make Hoshi pour it for you. It will make you equal in his eyes to be served by another."

"And the business with the necklace?" he asked, studying the blue man who still refused to move, although the Daihan Guard was fastening their own manacles around his wrists and ankles.

"Any gift freely given and accepted to a member of the Royal House is a sacred item. Nobody else can touch him; not even the king," she told him.

"You made him a slave to the princess to save him?"

"I don't think he'll see it that way," she admitted darkly. "Permission to see to the wounded, sir?"

"Granted," he agreed with another worried look at her face before the SaiDai indicated that their summit was about to begin. He signaled Hoshi and two of the MACO's to accompany him.

* * *

Andie headed for the bar, letting herself behind the counter with the ease of familiarity and filling a towel with ice before Eckta arrive to shoo her away. She accepted the med-kit from Sergeant Chang and applied a hypo to relive the pain and swelling before preparing to turn her attention to the former hostages being guarded by the two female MACO's.

Eckta slid up to the bar, stopping her from leaving. "I have only one offer to relieve your debt," he challenged with an accompanying head nod.

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Only one?" she questioned humorlessly.

"I have only one offer that your might consider," he amended with a leer.

She tried not to shudder and covered by rolling her eyes. She knew what he meant. "How many?"

They haggled until they settled on five which Andie still thought was too much but the bartender assured her would be just about right at the end of the night. Eckta slid away to inform the other participants and Andie removed herself from the bar to tend to the injuries of the ladies in waiting.

* * *

Archer found her sitting alone at the bar an hour later when his meeting was finished. Andie glanced up as he slid onto a bar stool and spoke two words to the female behind the bar. In a minute a full glass was pushed in front of him.

He thought about protesting but it had been a long day. He was surprised to discover it wasn't a beer at all, but a thick cider.

"You're on duty," she told him quietly. Sadly, he missed her trademark smirk.

"Right," he sighed. "The prisoners will be handed off to the Daihan government. They'll spend their lives in the mining colony. Duomo was believed to be on board the _Jaynie Blue_ when she exploded."

She nodded in acknowledgment and he went on. "Jase is the property of SaiMei Daraja. Apparently she met his sister and wants to keep him safe as a favor to her. Her father's not pleased; he thinks she's too outspoken for a female."

Andie nodded again while sipping her own brew. That last comment brought a faint grin to her face.

"Apparently Eckta has some spectacular repair facilities here and they lent a hand on our transceiver, While I was in there, a message was received from Starfleet Command." He slid a data pad across the counter to Andie who glanced at it without a word.

"_Go green_," it read. She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly at the snail's pace of bureaucracy.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

"It means that sometime tomorrow, hopefully later rather than sooner, you and I need to have a very long conversation," she told him tiredly.

"There's no time like the present," he suggested.

"I can't. I've got to do a...thing," she hedged.

"A thing?" he asked.

"A thing to clear up the matter with Eckta. He won't let you go if I don't." She looked mortified. "I'll be on board as soon as it's done. Unless I'm not allowed back on board?" she looked at him.

"For now you're fine," he told her. "I'll let you know after that long talk."

"They're ready for you, Red," a pretty female told Andie quietly.

Grimacing, she slid off the stool and made her way through one of the many doors that lined the room.

The pretty female looked at Archer shyly. "The worst of the bad element left as soon as gunfire broke out. There's going to be some entertainment and tonight the drink's are on the house. You should stay."

"What kind of entertainment?" he asked.

"Dräe Rouge will take the stage for her long overdue farewell concert!" The female's eyes widened with excitement. "I was too young to be at the last one, but Eckta's going to record it and they say the audio disks will be worth a fortune!"

His head swiveled in the direction of his wayward and recalcitrant doctor. "You don't say," he remarked. Curiosity made him send a message to Enterprise; anyone who wasn't on duty was allowed to join the festivities.

* * *

Trip slid into a booth next to Archer later that evening wearing an impossibly busy shirt in red and green. "I heard a rumor that Andie sings!" he grinned. "How is she?" He couldn't help staring at the stage where she jiggled in time to the music in her red shirt and bottle green pants.

"Let's just say she sings with more enthusiasm than skill," Archer spoke diplomatically. "She likes disco," he added with an incredulous expression. "How can anyone like disco?"

"Not that group over there," Trip nodded at some rough looking creatures in the corner. "They keep shouting at her to sing something from the early years." He added under his breath, "Whatever that means."

"How'd the repairs go?" Archer asked. As a matter of diplomacy, he'd offered his chief engineer to fix the Daihan ship they had attacked. The other ships were in similarly bad condition, since they chose to ignore the passage indicated by Eckta's guard and tried to attack from above in a dissimilar trajectory, but the SaiDai believed that his men could fix those themselves.

"It's creepy, Cap'n," Trip sighed, smiling his thanks at a pretty waitress that set down a beverage in front of him. "One of their engineers had his wife with him. She was covered in robes and had a mask over half her face. She didn't speak to anyone, just followed him around. She opened doors for him, and handed him tools. Once, he snagged his robe on a piece of metal and she just dropped to her knees and mended it, crawling behind him when he continued to walk. She never spoke; she never even looked at me, or him for that matter!"

"You think she needs rescuing?" Archer inquired. It sounded like a different kind of slavery.

"No," Trip spoke quietly. "I learned my lesson not to interfere with married folks. She seems happy just to serve him. Apparently being his wife is a good thing." He sipped his beverage deeply as the band called for a short break. "What's the king like?"

They traded stories.

* * *

Across the room at another table closer to the dance floor, a discussion heated up.

"I'm not saying the Doc's not hot, Ian!" Corporal Woods defended his position. "I'm just saying she's cute, you know! She's not really the kind to stop all the roughnecks in their tracks!"

Ensign Black opened his mouth to defend his colleague, but Mayweather intervened. "Let's just get another round of drinks, and chalk it up to a difference of opinion, okay?" He signaled the waitress with his hand.

Rostov chuckled at Travis. "You're always playing in the middle, aren't you?" he teased.

Travis sighed and smiled. The drinks were flowing, the serving girls were free with their favors and the men were having a pretty good time. It just seemed best to keep it that way.

* * *

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this!" wailed a young ensign to his roommate.

"How could you even think of missing this?" Henry Bowman fairly quivered with excitement. "She's pretty good so far, don't you think?" He turned his wide blue eyes to his chaperone.

Chang grinned parentally. "Sure, she's all right," he agreed. He had worried about the two young 'uns getting into trouble and had made it his personal task to watch over them. It was a good thing he did. Several creatures around the room had watched the two fresh young men shuffle through the crowd with an unhealthy gleam in their eyes but the hard look from their bodyguard had prevented any unfortunate actions.

Henry's roommate, Tim, seemed particularly unsettled by the strange creatures around the room while Henry tried to appear very sophisticated in his acceptance of them. It might have worked if his eyes didn't goggle every other minute.

Romero slid into the booth. "I think they're playing with marked cards," he grunted.

"Lost your shirt?" Chang grinned. He wasn't interested in the card games going on in one of the adjacent chambers.

"Damn near!" Romero grinned. "I think Moreno's going home naked though! He doesn't know when to quit!" With a chuckle, he slid two items across the table at the young men. "Souvenirs, boys!" A green female offered the tall, dark man a hot smile as she deposited glasses around the table. She made certain to touch his shoulder before she went, causing Romero to lean his head out into the aisle just to watch her walk away.

Tim and Henry picked up the carved rock figures in the rough shape of the letter M, but stretched wide.

"It's said to be the totem of the Drago Rouche," Romero told them, pulling his attention from the female who had been so attentive to him all evening.

"Who's the Drago Rouche?" Tim asked, just as the lights dimmed.

* * *

"Now that's a woman who could stop traffic," Woods gaped appreciatively, drawing the attention of the other three.

A humanoid female had entered the room from a back door. She wore heeled boots that ended just under her knees. Two squares of fabric hung in front and back of her waist like a loincloth, just barely covering her private bits, and a red leather scarf draped around her neck held in place by a metal band. It was the only clothing she wore, but it wasn't her only camouflage. Dermal artistry covered every inch of exposed skin in a thick tangle of leafy, thorny vines.

Around the room a hush fell when she entered, as though she took the air from their lungs as she passed. Trip's mouth hung open and when she stepped past his table he inhaled the sweet smell of her perfume. It made his heart race and his palms sweat. Up close he could see the dermal art created images inside of images. They looked like thorny vines, but he could see at the small of her back the way that the vines stretched out in the appearance of a bird taking flight, and the face of a dragon peered out from under the brush of candy red hair that ended at her shoulders.

Pausing at the bar, she leaned over to take something from Eckta's hand and she lifted her leg for balance, nearly giving away the cover of her skirt. Trip wanted very badly to look at her face, but when she turned back around he saw her eyes and nose were covered in a beaded mask in the shape of a dragon, like something he might find at Mardi Gras. Denied the opportunity to look on her made Trip gasp in frustration.

In the background the percussion started, and she stepped away from the bar and passed through the middle of the dance floor. Sinewy muscles rippled when she walked and the entire room stepped back to give her room. In a room of strange faces, she stood out as exotic.

A short, bald alien actually stepped forward to offer a costly necklace. She paused to look at him and some observers swore she spoke, but whatever she did to him, he fell on the floor in a paroxysm of anxiety as she walked past, refusing his gift. By stretching out her arms, she was lifted to the stage by two muscular rusty-haired men and they became the target of instant envy of every man in the room.

The music she sang was sad and cruel and in a completely foreign tongue. Every movement was deliberate and seductive. Around the room, men paused on the edge of their seats in anticipation of meeting her eyes even for a moment, drooling with the desire her mere presence had wrought.

"She moves like an Orion female," one customer noted, the words falling on the ears of the armory officer who had returned to the ship as soon as he was able for a shower and a change of uniform and was only re-entering the bar.

"But she is much harder to acquire," his companion noted, tallying up the total in his shipboard account and daring to dream his lustful dreams.

Reed slid into the booth with his friends and noted their gaping mouths with amusement. "She sings quite well," he noted, sipping the dark liquid the server brought to him gingerly.

"Huh?" Trip turned around, noting the officer for the first time and shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs. "Hey, Malcolm. It's a pity you couldn't hear Andie sing. She was all right too."

Malcolm looked confused. "What do you mean I missed her?" He turned his head to the stage and the exotic creature crooning on it. He looked expectantly back at Trip. If that giant pistol on her hip didn't give her away, the Klingon blade slung into her waistband should have.

It took a very long moment before Trip caught on. "Son of a bitch!" He sat up straighter. "That's Andie!"

Archer jerked his head upright and stared at her.

"That's not An-yee," refuted their waitress who was clearing the old glasses and replacing them with fresh ones, along with a plate of something that smelled wonderful. "That's the Drago Rouche."

Malcolm swallowed suddenly and choked on his drink.


	44. Chapter 44

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 44

* * *

The ride back to the ship was more than a little uncomfortable. It had little to do with Corporal Woods moaning from the floor in front of the bench seat, swearing that he would never drink again and begging someone to kill him before the worst of the hangover started. The other passengers, crowded together, rode in a thick silence.

Archer was trying hard to figure out how a woman with ties to pirates wound up on the list of Starfleet personnel. And not just any personnel, but somehow protected by the big brass at headquarters. The explanation she promised him was going to have to be one doozy of an explanation. Recalling her recitation of events at the failed Donner colony site on Mars, Archer wondered for the first time if he really wanted to know anything at all. He maneuvered the shuttle into the docking clamp and they were brought inside the ship.

Trip shifted uncomfortably beside Andie, who was nearly on top of his lap in the crowded vessel. He'd been attracted to lots of women in his life, but never this one. Sure, she was cute, but he'd always felt somewhat protective of her, as a big brother to her little sister. At the moment he felt anything but brotherly. At the moment in these close quarters her perfume tickled his nose and made him want to do some very personal things to her.

She smelled so good he couldn't think straight; his hormones seemed to be doing all the thinking. The feelings were at odds with his personality because he knew that he didn't really feel that way about her at all. At the moment, he felt unable to control himself and was uncomfortable that she should be sitting so close to him. If the shuttle jerked, she might land on his lap and understand exactly how awkward these feelings were for him. He tried to think about things that would make the desire go away, concentrating on the last water polo match he'd been forced to watch with Archer.

In the navigational chair the tactical officer glowered fiercely. She was a bloody pirate. He'd spent time in his youth fighting pirates, and knowing that she was one of the most feared of the whole miserable bunch had made him much less willing to see any good in her. He may have found her troublesome before, but now he knew she was dangerous. Seething with anger, he couldn't stop the images that crowded his mind. She'd been the reason he failed his task; he was going to make her pay for that. He settled back, feeling the souvenirs he brought back with him jostle in his pocket.

Andie just sat next to Trip and tried not to fall apart. As she was leaving the bar, Eckta had pulled her aside and told her that she was considered a Uni now, and that she would not be welcome should she ever think to return. As hellish as her experiences there had been, sometimes it felt like the Reef was the only home she'd ever known and being cast out of it had shaken her to the core. Deep in her heart she knew that Jase had been right; she didn't belong at Eckta's. She just hoped he had been wrong when he also told her she didn't belong here. She was running out of places to go.

Travis sat on the bench seat and prayed that Woods, who knelt on the floor in front of him, didn't vomit before they got back to the ship. He would have to clean up the mess inside the shuttle, but the engineering crew would have that job if Woods hurled on the deck plating. He crossed his fingers and prayed silently, ignorant of the emotional undercurrent around him.

Once docked, the passengers disembarked. Med-techs whisked Woods away to Sickbay immediately, to Travis's relief. Feeling exposed and off-balance made Trip scurry away as quickly as his legs would take him, hoping a cold shower would help.

Andie shouldered the canvas bag she'd brought from the _Jaynie Blue_ and watched Archer resignedly. "You ready for that drink now?" she asked.

Archer frowned. "I think it can wait until tomorrow," he told her. "How about dinner, eighteen thirty?" His head was pounding and he didn't think he could stand to listen to any more stories tonight.

"Sure," she agreed. Nearby a crewman coughed, and she frowned at him.

"Stay out of Sickbay until then," he cautioned her, not wanting her to be able to take advantage of the crew, and not certain the precaution was necessary. "You've been drinking. Phlox can cover it till then."

"Fine," she snapped. She caught Reed staring at her after the captain left with the coughing crewman in tow. "Would you escort me to my cabin, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"It's late, Doctor," he started to refuse.

"I have something you might need." Carefully she touched her eye and nodded at his face. No matter how hard he'd scrubbed, he couldn't get all the paint off his face or out of his hair. He looked smudged and felt dirty.

Resentfully he followed her back to her quarters. She had once again donned the red half shirt and bottle green pants. The candy red wig was gone, but the red painted streaks remained, as did the dark smudges around her eyes. She looked like a waif, but having seen her mostly unclothed, Malcolm made a note never to think of her as fragile again. She was made almost entirely of muscle.

In her room, Napoleon purred loudly and trailed his body around her legs obsessively as she dug a small jar out of the canvas bag. Stepping into her bathroom he heard her running tap water, but couldn't resist moving to peer in the bag she left open on the bunk. He heard the water shut off and shifted his weight back to his previous position.

Returning, she noted his wariness, and guessed that it had to do with her open bag. She said nothing. When she tried to administer the paste to Reed's face he jerked away from her touch. An intent look from her made him hold his ground and glare back at her.

"Apply to the painted areas, let it set and rinse with warm water," she directed, offering the small sample container to him. "I'd prefer if you'd remain in the company of others for at least an hour, in case of allergic reaction."

"You want me to stay here?" he asked coldly, wondering what grim torture she had in mind.

"Anywhere there's other people would be sufficient," she told him evenly. "It doesn't have to be here."

Andie noticed Reed's eyes wandering to her bag again. "Let me save you the trouble of procuring a search warrant." She tipped the contents of the bag upside down and ignored his blatant interest in the things she brought back from her pirate's lair.

He wasn't sure how he felt at the moment as he took a deep breath. The walls seemed to close in on him and he was starting to lose focus on what he was doing in her room, still holding the paste she gave him for the paint. Leon circled round and round her ankles, lovingly biting her boots and purring loudly. Her use of the word 'search' made all kinds of thoughts jump into his head and he suddenly had a different sort of inspection in mind.

"You are..." He wanted to tell her she was vile and he despised her but what came out of his mouth was "...beautiful." When the words he spoke reached his own ears, he flushed in mortification. "That's not what I meant."

"Relax, Sparky." She noticed his unease with cynical amusement. "I think that's just the perfume talking." She refolded a tee shirt and added it to the pile in her locker. "I know a guy who makes a love potion. Dab it behind your ears and you're irresistible."

_The scent_, he thought, suddenly aware of the inviting fragrance that was more tangible in the confined quarters. "More trickery," he noted out loud. "Of course." _She tricked nearly all of Starfleet, _he reminded himself as though he would ever forget.

Her eyes were cold and distant when she looked at him. "If my trickery is such a burden then it's a good thing you're such an upstanding citizen." _Upstanding citizen who allegedly formerly ran with mercenaries, _she thought. She tucked away the box of body paints into another drawer.

"Somebody's got to keep an eye on you," he acknowledged. Her behavior was odd. He quelled the suddenly panicked feeling that she was planning something. He'd rightly been called paranoid before and he intended to chalk it up to a late night and the booze. He watched her place the books in the shelf over her bed.

"Clearly," she retorted with his favorite sarcastic sling. "How's your chest?" she turned the conversation to the holes that Duomo had poked in him.

"It stings a bit, but I received something for the pain from Ensign Black before Cutler relieved him to head down to the bar." As soon as MACO's were surrounding both the captain and the doctor, he'd slipped up to the ship to change into more familiar clothes, then back down to the bar to catch the show.

"I could offer something for ..."

"The captain told you to remain outside of sickbay." His voice was hard.

"So he did," she acknowledged. The mood was close to combative as they summed each other up in the dim light.

Napoleon's affection turned into a lovemaking session with Andie's boots, still on her feet.

She forced a chuckle out of her mouth to break the tense moment. "If there's nothing else, Lieutenant, I think I could use a shower." She wanted to put some distance between them.

"Yes, definitely," he glared, thinking she stunk of more than perfume. "Good night...Dräe."

"G'night." Somehow the name of her former nom de plume sounded cruel on his lips. She let him go without another word.

* * *

Ensign Tanner sat at the navigational terminal and turned the starship into the darkness of space, putting a distance between them and the pirates to the relief of everyone on board. The captain stayed on the bridge long enough to make sure they weren't being followed then excused himself for the night. Ensign Tanner drew a deep breath of relief then sneezed twice in rapid succession.

From her seat at the science station Ensign Pike frowned at him. She had been left in command and Pike didn't want to be the one in charge when the entire Gamma shift suddenly came down with a cold. It wasn't as though she could call in reinforcements for the navigation chair; Ensign Stevens had been taken off the active duty list by Sickbay earlier in the evening, and Ensigns Macy and Mayweather had been drinking with the rest of the crew and wouldn't be fit for duty for several more hours.

She just hoped they could hold on until morning when they could be excused to pay a visit with Phlox.

* * *

After her shower, Andie pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. The shirt was green with a bottle of wine and a cluster of grapes. _I've got a crush on you_, it read. She slipped her feet into sneakers and headed for the Mess Hall. She'd had plenty to drink last night, and if she didn't get some food in her stomach, she was never going to sleep.

There was still quite a crowd gathered there, mostly crewmen in the same condition she was in. The kitchen staff had offered to prepare breakfast early and Crewman Marcil was busy refilling the tray with scrambled eggs. Andie filled a plate with eggs, hash browns, toast and coffee and was debating whether or not to add bacon to the pile when Woods appeared at her elbow. Obviously he was feeling better than he had been in the shuttle, but he was still a little off-balance.

"The Rockin' Doc!" he greeted her loudly.

"Don't call me that," she sighed, trying not to bite his head off. The room quieted somewhat behind her.

"How come you never told me you could sing like that?" he demanded, slurring his words a little. It was clear he wasn't entirely sober.

Andie used tongs to add toast to his plate then regretted it as his wild movements caused the bread to slide right off the edge. Travis stood at Woods' elbow and tried to prop him upright. The ensign offered an apologetic glance at the doctor.

"Of course," Woods went on, without waiting for a reply, "you were upstaged by that hottie that followed you." He turned back to Travis. "I wouldn't mind trying to tame that animal," he leered.

It was clear that Woods hadn't identified her as the second performer. She wondered how many of the crew that witnessed the event last night could say the same.

"First of all," Andie replied, putting a hand on Woods' arm and forcing him to look at her, "thank you for the compliment on my singing. Second, I've met the Drago Rouche; it's much more likely that she would have turned you into her pet than the other way around."

He giggled. "But what an experience that would be!"

"I'm not sure that's an experience you'd like," Lt. Reed broke in as he refilled his coffee mug. His face and hair were free of extra color and both were slightly damp as if he'd come straight from a shower. "From what I understand, people who tangle with the Drago Rouche are never heard from again."

"Where'd you hear that?" Andie tilted her head to look at him.

"I was fascinated by the _performance_ and asked around." He made that word sound like a crime.

It was obvious that Reed had not been influenced by the skimpy clothes and provocative lyrics. He scowled at her like she was at the top of his list of enemies. The strong reaction he was having to her deception just made her angry since he was definitely not so squeaky clean.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Travis pulled on Woods' arm. "Ensign Mandara didn't want to give him a sedative after all the alcohol he consumed."

"What happened to Phlox?" Andie frowned. Ensign Mandara was a member of the science team who was cross-trained in medical procedures and filled in when there was an emergency.

"I don't know," Travis shrugged as he filled a plate and urged Woods away from the buffet.

Reed raised an eyebrow. "It's very early. Perhaps he's already sleeping in preparation for tomorrow's barrage of early morning patients." He looked around the room at the number of jovial people who would undoubtedly need some sort of analgesic before their shifts tomorrow.

"He doesn't sleep much," she murmured, still frowning. The Denobulan had been slightly off his game when Jase and his crew were on board, but she'd attributed that to their offensive behavior. Now he was out of Sickbay when he was needed. She wondered if there was a bigger problem. Her eggs didn't seem as appetizing anymore. "I think I'll just take this back to my room." She offered a perfunctory smile at Reed. "Good night, again, Lieutenant." Andie left the room.

It didn't takeReed long to take his mug and follow her, slipping into the turbo-lift just before the doors closed. She eyed him suspiciously.

"It's too crowded in the Mess Hall," he lied. "I could use some peace and quiet." There were answers he really needed to have. The abrupt change of conversation from her sleazy performance to Phlox's presence in Sickbay had been an excellent ploy, but Malcolm was on to her now. She wouldn't get away from him that easily.

Her head was swimming and she didn't want to play this game with him anymore, but it didn't look like he was going anywhere. "Fine," she grunted. They got off the turbo-lift and he followed her down the corridor to her quarters, making her grit her teeth. His quarters were much further down and it was obvious that he was just following her around the ship.

"What exactly is the Drago Rouche?" he asked just outside her room.

She closed her eyes. All she wanted was for this day to be over and he was intent on interrogating her. "It means Red Dragon," Andie grimaced. "It's a stage name."

"Because of the mask you wore?" He followed her inside.

"Because of a wound," she retorted. Setting her plate down on the desk, she dug around in a crowded drawer to find a small light which she handed to Malcolm. Leon looked up from his nap then went straight back to sleep. His obsessive worship for his mistress had obviously gone away after she rinsed off the love potion.

Turning around, she shifted her tee shirt up and her pants down low on her hips to expose the small of her back. Dubiously he waved the flashlight, which shone with ultraviolet light, across the expanse that she indicated until red and blue colors glowed like neon under her skin.

"I stood too close to a beaker filled with irradiated chemicals when it exploded. The chemicals aren't toxic but even after I was cleaned up and declared healed, the residue glows near UV light."

"It looks like a bird taking flight," he noted with curiosity. The blue and red colors did look like a wings outspread, much like the wide M that served as souvenirs that many patrons purchased to remember their experience at the concert.

"Yeah," she smoothed her clothing. "And it tingles. Eckta thought I needed a gimmick so he created the myth of the Red Dragon, the 'concubine that would never be tamed'." She used finger quotes to indicate how dumb she thought the whole thing to be. Suddenly nervous, she started fussing with the objects she'd stacked on her desk from her duffel bag. The photos she'd taken from the Jaynie Blue were slipped into a drawer, a couple of bottles of booze were slipped into the foot locker, along with a dainty bottle of perfume.

Inside the footlocker rested the large pistol she'd retrieved from the freighter. Malcolm reached for it automatically, but hesitated when he remembered that she said it was dangerous to others. "You brought an unregistered firearm on board _Enterprise_?"

"I couldn't very leave it behind to be a danger to others," she snapped. "I'll take it to a chemist I know when we get back to Earth. Maybe he can figure out how to deactivate it."

She shut the lid to the locker but not before Malcolm noted the Klingon blade and the funny slingshot were all that she brought along.

"Where are the poison darts?" he asked. Not to mention the half dozen knives she'd been packing when she went after her old boyfriend.

"Gone," she shrugged.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," she agreed.

He stared at her, trying to separate his rage from his ability to think clearly. After all these years, the name of Eleanors' killers might be within his grasp, if he could only find a way to make her tell him what he wanted to know. He didn't ask himself what he'd do to her if he found out that she had been the one to send the men that killed his former girlfriend. Willing his hands not to reach out and strangle the information out of her, he tried to find a way out of the hole that led directly to his own miserable hell.

"Is there anyone else who goes by the name of the Red Dragon?" It was important to be sure. He hadn't been sure last time and his quest was lost because of it. He didn't like being confused. He liked answers.

"Nobody else," she quashed his desperate hope. "Just me."

His hands were clenched so tightly around the coffee mug he was afraid he'd snap the handle off.

"I think I've kept you from your meal long enough," Reed forced the words out. "You've got a long day ahead of you with Captain Archer tomorrow."

"Leaving me again?" she snarked. "Parting is such sweet sorrow, but in your case there's always the next minute when we accidentally meet again." She was fatigued and irritable.

His grimace was all the parting remark she was going to get. She let the door close with relief.

* * *

In the corridor outside, Reed took a long, deep breath. Every instinct he possessed urged him to lock her up in the brig before she could do something awful to the crew, but Archer seemed determined to wait and hear what she had to say before he made any further judgments. Malcolm thought that Archer might be foolish for expecting Dr. Andie to have any story that could explain her odd behavior, but then, he didn't feel that he had the emotional distance to make the best decision in this matter.

He had to have faith that the captain would get to the bottom of this, that he would find Dr. Andie out to be the traitor that Malcolm knew now that she was. Captain Archer had been excessively naive when they first started to explore but Malcolm felt certain that the events in the Expanse had opened his commanding officer's eyes to the treachery that could exist all around them. He had to believe that Archer would take the right course of action.

He had to have faith, something he'd been sorely lacking for a while.


	45. Chapter 45

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 45

* * *

Sleep didn't come easily to Malcolm even though he was exhausted. He tossed and turned on his bunk, feeling the room sway around him in his slightly intoxicated state. The last time he'd been in this pirate bar had been a blur, and he struggled now to remember it, even as he dozed somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

He'd been approached by the Section while he was still in Starfleet training. Taught in an old school in San Francisco, many of the students were giddy at the thought that they work they did in their lifetime would lead to a more advanced school, an actual Academy where humans would learn to live and work in space. Malcolm was less interested in those things than he was in getting off the ground to find the people responsible for the abduction of humans from their own planet.

His work for the Section had been simple in those days. One of his duties was as a security guard outside Starfleet's growing library. He was approached by a friend from Section who asked him to be a pal and let him inside to study after hours. It hadn't been hard to just turn his head away while one or two members slipped inside a door. He didn't always know which people studied there, but they were always quick and quiet and never left a trail behind.

Later the work had grown a little more demanding, like turning a satellite off to prevent detection of something that happened on the ground. His conscience had squirmed at that but it hadn't seemed terribly important at the time and his commanding officer had told him that it was for the good of the planet and in the best interest of Starfleet that they did these things. Nothing newsworthy had ever occurred in those dark spots so Malcolm didn't worry about it.

He'd finished his second year of training and became a full-fledged ensign. To his surprise, the man who gave him orders from Section turned out to be his new commanding officer. Harris had requested Ensign Reed be assigned to his security team and Malcolm had left Earth for the first time, serving aboard the newly designed Jupiter Station. The work there was fulfilling all by itself, creating an outpost where the new starships would one day be built. The secret work he did was just an added bonus.

To his surprise he found that the Section had access to many things not included on the lists of inventory of the regular Starfleet supplies, including a warp capable ship. It began to feel strange that they had one at their disposal while Starfleet still struggled to launch the Warp Five Project, but Harris assured him that they would only use the ship for short excursions to keep Earth and humanity safe.

It was exciting one day to be called into Harris' office and be told that he would be allowed to join the operatives who went out to defend Earth. This is what Malcolm had been waiting for. Everything else was taken care of. Someone clocked his time on a 'special project', and he had colleagues that would remember his name, but few people saw him so nobody would remember anything about him. They just said he was very quiet and kept to himself.

The first mission was simple. The Earth Cargo Alliance had been receiving complaints from freighters about a marauding ship that always seemed to attack in one sector. The Section was going out to deal with the raiders. Malcolm and five other men were sent. They lay in wait for the attacker, firing upon the ship's main power junction when it was close enough and blowing up the vessel. It seemed easy enough. Malcolm brushed away his uneasiness after the battle by reminding himself that he had saved lives by taking such drastic action. The ECA told its freighters to be more careful in that sector, but the number of complaints about assault dropped immediately. Nobody ever knew what happened to the aggressor but they assumed that it had found other hunting grounds and their goods and services got to the people and places they were supposed to be.

Not all of the assignments were so easy. One time Malcolm and the others were sent out to retrieve a prisoner, as requested by the Rigellian Trade Association. It fell to Malcolm to feed the prisoner after they'd apprehended him, and he had a chance to speak to the captive, who begged not to be sent home for fear of capital punishment. Another time a raid on a vessel believed to be hauling contraband was thoroughly searched only to discover spent injector casings. Yet another involved assaulting a ship to "redistribute" their cargo, a hold full of energy pulse weapons. The weapons were returned to their previous owners, but a few managed to integrate into the Section's ship and supplies. Still another mission involved attacking a privately owned vessel in order to copy their star charts, leaving all hands alive and virtually unharmed.

The missions were becoming more complicated, and Malcolm began to question whether or not they could truly help him fight the offenses he'd signed on for. His discontent grew more and more vocal. He might have been left behind on Jupiter Station more often if it weren't for his knack of creating devices to help their cause. After witnessing a ship that had cannons that retracted into the ship when not in use, Malcolm tinkered with a flexible arm that eventually pulled their own guns into the safety of the hull, thereby hiding their true fire power from certain opponents and offering them the veil of surprise when they finally attacked.

His value to the Section grew, but his taste for the work diminished. He often voiced his frustration that the pirates he sought, the ones who had transported down into a dark alley and killed his girl, would never be found. When he would return to Jupiter Station, he watched the other men interact with one another as friends. They told jokes and had orderly routines. Malcolm was jealous of their close relationships and felt more alone than ever. Emotionally he began to withdraw from everyone around him, even his comrades in the Section.

After one raid, Harris interrogated a prisoner, who identified the dark figures Malcolm described as slavers, and the Section members were sent out again. They were spending most of their time in space attacking pirates but keeping a special eye open for slavers. The work was more dangerous, and their list of injuries mounted, but Malcolm felt at last that he was in the middle of something worthwhile. He felt they were doing good work by diminishing the unsafe threats to travelers. The close quarters and the danger he shared with the other Section members became something he relied upon rather than tolerated. Justice became the entire reason for his existence; a theory he expounded upon at every opportunity.

After one particularly bloody raid the commanding officer, known in the field as Hawk, entered Reed's quarters and sat down. Malcolm, or Raven as he was known in the Section, continued to tinker with the power yield on his EM-33 pulse pistol, convinced he could get a stronger output without damaging the victim. He'd been relegated to controlling the operation from the bridge of the Section's ship and had not witnessed the investigation on the other ship.

"There were no survivor's. We got here too late," Hawk announced by way of starting the conversation. Malcolm didn't like to waste time. They had answered a distress call from a cargo ship that declared they were under attack. "There's only debris floating out there."

Later Malcolm would have reason to wonder if that was true but by then he'd have no way of knowing for sure. Uncertainty made him edgy. His outspoken lectures on fair play had driven a wall between him and his fellow operatives and kept him out of the loop, even on board this ship with its close quarters.

"All we found was this." Hawk held out a padd with a picture on it. "The captain said it was the totem of the Red Dragon. We're en route to a trading post which this Dragon is said to frequent. Get some sleep, Raven. You're about to get everything you ever wanted." He left Malcolm alone to his thoughts. Raven never said much in those days. What was the point when nobody seemed to be listening?

They landed on the tarmac outside where gravity and atmosphere were constantly maintained for the safety of the patrons. They walked across the pad and followed the crowds through a corridor where prostitutes lingered in the many doorways, urging the newcomers to buy their time. Two of Raven's comrades broke off from the group to linger with the harlots, hoping to gain information while the others entered the tavern.

It was crowded but they found a booth near the door and settled in. Smoke hung heavily in the air making it hard to see clearly and harder to breathe. Having just sat down, Malcolm jumped up again when Hawk barked at him to get some drinks.

Malcolm waited at the bar, pushing the skull cap off his head in order to let a little cool air reach his scalp. He'd spent the first two years of his official Starfleet record working on the unofficial business of attacking pirates and now he was in the middle of one of the most notorious strongholds.

His head swam at the idea that his life had been so simple just a few years ago. The worst thing he'd ever had to contemplate when he was in college was how mad it would make his father when he didn't join the Navy. He had felt safe then. In an instant that feeling of safety evaporated when the loveliest girl he'd even known had been targeted and now Malcolm was surrounded by a number of suspects, any one of whom could have been the reason for her death.

As he pondered, feeling small in this sea of bodies, he heard a noise barely above a whisper. The room was crowded and although he looked around he couldn't see anyone looking at him so he knew the noise hadn't been meant for him. What he saw as he spun around made him freeze.

Behind him, two aliens carried a black case through the room. They were humanoid with sunken eyes and overreaching brow ridges. The case they carried was marked in red with the symbol that Hawk had showed him: an arrow with an open circle at one end and crossed with a wiggly line in the center. That was the mark indicating cargo for the Red Dragon.

Trying to get Hawk's attention proved futile; he was still at the table deep in conversation with one of the other Section members. Determined to end this once and for all, to find the one responsible, Malcolm followed the two aliens through a different door than he'd used to enter the bar and trailed them through the winding corridors to an different launch bay.

Several docking ports were occupied by ships too large to land on the pad outside and these ports offered airlock entry and gangplanks to board those ships. The two aliens had paused at the foot of a gangplank to speak with the guard posted at the bottom. Outside the roar of the engines was beginning to grow louder. The ship of the Red Dragon was about to take off.

"Stop!" Malcolm couldn't help but shout as they prepared to leave. They only had to walk up the gangplank and be lost to him forever. He started forward, pulling his pistol from his holster, but he was yanked aside by a member of his team.

"Falcon!" Malcolm recognized the man as one of those who had tried to pry information from the prostitutes. He had no idea how his friend had gotten into the cargo bay, but assumed that a lady had offered the information and sent him on his way.

"Shut up, Raven! You want to get us all killed?" Falcon hissed. They were hidden behind a crate.

The two aliens glanced around, and the guard at the foot of the gangplank removed his weapon from his shoulder holster. Seeing no other movements close by, the three went back to sharing a smoke and chatting.

"They're getting away!" Malcolm hissed desperately.

"We need to wait for orders!" Falcon countered. "Their leader is on the way!"

"All the more reason we should act now!" Malcolm leaped up and headed for the guards. Age had not yet tempered his instincts to act first and think later.

Falcon tackled Reed which drew the attention of the three guards. The aliens fired on the wrestlers and the humans fired back. The black crate with red markings was dropped to the ground, breaking open from the impact. A girl fell out, wasting no time but ducking instinctively behind crates for cover.

"Slavers!" Malcolm hissed in fury. Slavers had taken Eleanor. His sudden wrath was all encompassing and he didn't remember anything but the blindness of rage that the Section would allow the trafficking of a girl right under their nose in order to find one man.

A lot of shots were exchanged from both sides. A carton blew up. More men arrived from different directions. Section members, slavers and men from the tavern converged on the area, all willing to fire pistols at one another. Malcolm was separated from Falcon and lost sight of him. When he tried to move in closer, it was Hawk who restrained him with a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing, Ensign?" he barked. "I thought I told you to procure drinks, not start a war!" He settled into a defensive position and drew his weapon.

"That's a slave ship, sir!" Malcolm pointed out. From his vantage point, he couldn't see Falcon anywhere in the melee. He did see one of the aliens who'd been carrying the crate lying still on the ground.

"I know!" shouted Hawk, peering around a corner and taking careful aim at an attacker. "But the man we seek is not on board!"

"Not on board?" Malcolm repeated in surprise. An explosion nearby made him duck down and cover his head.

"We need to get out of here," Condor, another Section member called over the communicator. "We're receiving unusual readings from the ship's main power chamber."

Grabbing Malcolm's arm and dragging him forcefully out of the firefight, Hawk bullied his way through the cargo bay. They were nearly at the door that led into the tavern when an explosion rocked the entire room behind them.

Heat and light drove them through the air on a wave of fire, crushing them against the wall, followed by the sensation of the vacuum of space sucking them back outside.

The ship that had been docked at the gangplank was no longer there. In seconds, the security protocols of the trading post had come online and the docking portal was sealed shut, but only debris lingered outside. Many men lay in tangled heaps on the floor, gasping for air.

The Red Dragon was gone. The ship was destroyed but the man who captained her, the man they sought, had been seen slipping out another door and using another ship to escape.

* * *

Malcolm sat up in bed, clutching at his throat as the sensation of being unable to draw breath transferred itself to his waking mind. Slowly he recognized his quarters aboard _Enterprise_. Once again he made his way to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

Hawk had not been pleased by his interference. He'd railed for almost four hours while Malcolm sat stiffly at a table in the bar, focusing all his attention on a poster on the wall of a woman in red peering over her shoulder at him. When the dizziness of the recent fight wore off, Malcolm began to rail back at Hawk, berating him for allowing the very atrocity he'd signed on to prevent to take place under his nose. Hawk countered by arguing that they man they pursued was more dangerous than one female in a box and the debate had grown heated.

The very instant they returned to Jupiter Station, Malcolm had requested a transfer to a more mainstream assignment from Starfleet Command. Harris had been displeased but their relationship was no longer what it once was. Malcolm didn't trust him anymore.

It was haunting him now, that unfinished business. It had come aboard his ship and made friends with his crew. Andrea Brainerd had acknowledged that she was the Red Dragon. The man they had been searching for was actually a woman, and had escaped through the back door. She was on board his ship now, and charged with keeping healthy the members of the crew. She could perform any number of atrocities on this ship and nobody would be able to stop her.

If she was the one he sought, he reminded himself. The wide 'M' that she claimed as her totem was not the same as the criss-crossed arrow that he had been seeking. Either the mark or the name was wrong. Reed heaved a sigh and rubbed his throbbing temples. She had to be the one he sought. She was feared at that pirate bar more than any other creature there, and she had at her fingertips any number of potions and weapons to obtain anything she desired.

The worst part was the uncertainty. Reed didn't know what he wanted more; to turn her in for her work as a pirate or to interrogate her for the name he sought above all else: the name of the man who led the team to an alley on Earth that caused the death of his woman.

His logical mind suggested that the two may not be exclusive of each other, but his raging mind was gaining influence, as it had when he was younger. His rage noted that the interrogation he had in mind would never be sanctioned by Starfleet. He still had the wherewithal to flinch when he acknowledged that Section 31 would approve heartily of his methods.

Frustrated and rubbing his temples against the pain that throbbed inside his skull, he gave up the idea of sleeping again. Sitting down at his desk, he started to sift through the damage and repair reports that had accumulated during recent events.

Clenching his teeth, he reminded himself that Archer would be the right man to judge the woman he hated.


	46. Chapter 46

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 46

_Author's Note: Real life has been busy. My dog died, my friend got married and I started a new job. My thanks to __**sketch1981**__for reminding me that my fan fiction duties needed tending. I hope this chapter is worth the wait. And hopefully the rest of the chapters won't take so long._

* * *

She woke after only a few hours sleep from a nightmare that threatened to drown her in fear. As Andie lay panting and shaking off the tremors that followed, it became clear that she wasn't going to get back to sleep. It was also equally clear that she was not going to be able to sleep again, and that waiting for dinner to come around was more anticipation that she could handle. She'd always been a take-action sort of girl, not the kind that waited around for someone else to take care of business. Sighing heavily, she checked the clock. It was only a couple hours early for the first shift. Untangling her body from the two felines who hovered close for warmth and swinging her legs off the bunk, she pulled on some clothes and made her way through the ship.

It was earlier than he usually liked to rise when Archer opened his door at the insistent chime to discover the new doctor standing there in civvies with a thermos and two mugs in her hand. "It's better if we get this over with," she said matter-of-factly. Jon contemplated how much force it would take to get her off his doorstep then decided it wasn't worth the trouble. He'd never been one for waiting anyway. He sighed and let her in. She dropped into the comfortable chair in his room and he propped himself up on the bed with pillows behind his head and his dog near his side. The story she told was long and complicated although it started simply enough.

She was four years old when everything changed.

Her parents went to an important meeting in another city and left her for a time with her grandparents, who lived in a renovated lighthouse on the coast of Texas. Grandpa liked to sit on the top step of the lighthouse and look out to sea while whittling wood that washed up on shore. He even let her little hands work with a very dull knife, but although she became proficient at making very sharp sticks, Grandpa could turn out a tree with every single leaf standing out in detailed relief, or a ship with tiny portholes with faces peeking out. Grandma bustled all day long, making cookies in the morning then taking them to the children's recovery ward at the hospital before lunch. She'd visit the women's trauma center in the afternoon and spend her evenings making quilts or knitting lap robes for the ladies' whose treatments left them chilly even on warm nights. She always had time to show the little girl how to wrap the yarn around the blunt needle. Those three and a half weeks were the happiest times she would ever remember.

When her parents returned, they were very angry but not at her. For almost two weeks they fought in strained whispers when they thought she wasn't listening. The arguments ended when her grandmother packed a bag with the little girl's clothes and filled a large traveling case with books and yarn and the doll she'd just finished making.

Grandpa took her out back and sat with her in the cool salty air, whittling away. When he was done, he handed it to her. It was a large bird with its wings outstretched. "_There is a legend of a Great Bird who flew through the stars, seeding all the planets with its offspring. That means that everywhere you go, everyone you meet is your brother. Care for them as you care for your family. Keep your head on straight and eventually you'll come home again."_ It was the closest she'd ever seen her Grandpa come to crying.

"_Will I see you again, Grandpa?"_ she asked, fearing the worry in his eyes and not knowing what it meant. She was very small and that meant that people didn't tell her anything.

He glanced at the black cheroot smoking between his fingers and rubbed his aching chest, coughing a little. "_I don't think so, Little Daughter, but I'll look in on you from time to time_."

The next day she was sent with her father, a confident practical man, on a shuttle to a big city by another ocean. They boarded a starship full of tall slender beings with pointed ears. She'd been confused at leaving her mother, but there were so many new things to see. Her puzzlement grew every day until she was overcome with worry. She no longer laughed or played. Her father was busy in one of the science labs on board the ship and it was actually one of the aliens who finally came to talk to her. The Vulcan sat down next to her in the observation lounge. He tried to offer some advice to a child so young and different from his own children.

"If you cannot adapt you will die," he said simply. "The universe is full of strange new things in infinite combinations. Learn to appreciate them."

"I'm not going to go home again, am I?" she sniffled. She guessed as much and the look on her father's face when he would not deny this only cemented the belief. It was nice to know she was right.

"You do not have a choice in that matter today. It will not always be so." Kind brown eyes glanced down at her. "There will be children on Vulcan who understand how to control their emotions. I can teach you how to control yours so that you might adapt quickly."

The Vulcan made a point of meeting with her everyday to teach her meditation techniques and how to read and write Vulcan. Her father spent most of his days in the medical lab, speaking with other tall thin creatures. Dr. Brainerd was very excited the day they fell into geo-synchronous orbit around the hot desert planet, but the little girl watched passively from his side. The tall alien who helped her seemed pleased by her response. The man and his daughter lived together in a small villa on the edge of a great city. The rooms were sparsely decorated, but her bed was soft and the world was hot and quiet. She missed the smell of the sea.

She attended school with other children who were as quiet and solemn as the tall men who had brought her here. In the evening she dined with her father and he would sit on the low cushions with her and tell her stories he read from books, or interesting tidbits about his day. They explored the city and the surrounding desert often. The days passed much easier than she expected and she came to consider this strange quiet place home.

One day she sat quietly in her room, twisting the yarn her grandma had given her around on a stubby hook when her father burst into the room. "We're leaving!" he announced with excitement. "There's a cargo ship waiting! Pack everything! We won't be coming back."

And so it went. A few months in one place, learning the language, meeting the people, then they would pack up and move on. There was the mining colony with the men who stared at her small form with interest. Most hadn't seen a female in quite some time, and one man she met there became her friend and rescued her from some unwanted advances of a kind she didn't fully understand until later. He gifted her with a sharp knife and told her how to take care of herself. Her father ran out of lessons in the books he'd brought with him, so he started teaching her about the only thing he knew anything about: medicine. In time she was acting as his nurse during surgeries, in spite of her youth.

They received a message to return to the Sol system and the red planet nearby. She looked forward to seeing her grandparents again, but they had both passed away while she was gone. She never even saw her mother. Her father did, but the great doctor told her that her mother had remarried and had a new family now. It was just the two of them now; they would be together forever. She stood very close to him and rested her hand in his.

The red planet was beautiful in a stark and barren sort of way, and her father continued her lessons inside a glass dome on the surface. She continued to dress in the wraparound tunics and loose pants of the Vulcan people, including the thin scarf around her face and hair, which hid her features. She was frequently mistaken as the great doctor's companion, rather than his daughter. Neither of them bothered to correct the mistake very often.

People started to die on the settlement of the red planet and the survivors were forced to seek refuge in an old water tank until they were rescued by a cheery Denobulan. Her father declared that there was a conspiracy afoot, and that all humans were scheming against him. The young girl, who was almost seven by now, just rolled her eyes when her father started to talk like this. By the time he called for her to pack her bags, she was already putting the last book in her traveling case, already prepared to move on.

Ship after ship, planet after planet, they traveled through the stars stopping to heal the sick and then moving on. Along the way, she picked up the odd habit here and there. The miners' knife in her boot eventually broke, and was replaced by a sacred Klingon blade. The thin silks were eventually packed away and heavier fabrics that retained warmth were more commonly used. Every planet they stood on offered new information to be absorbed and understood. Strange new foods, new faces, new languages and new diseases were the only constant in the lives of the unusual pair. They were virtually inseparable. The girl became a young woman and scoffed whenever she saw children playing. In her mind, she and her father had much more important work to do.

Twelve years ago during another trip on another freighter everything changed again.

Well, it was probably about twelve years ago. Without a standardized clock, time was irrelevant. She'd been a young woman then, standing at her father's side as they boarded the freighter, called the _Jamur Blau_. It was an old ship, filled with personable aliens who smiled quietly as she followed her father, ushered through the vessel to yet another set of temporary living quarters. A line of blue tinted their alien extremities, darker at the hairline and tips of their fingers, but less noticeable at the chin or the elbow. Their hair was indigo and their eyes glittered like sapphires. The young woman tried not to stare, mentally reminding herself that she must look as strange to them as they did to her.

Her father was patting his pockets in that absent-minded way. She placed a hand on his arm and held out the pad he sought, retrieved from the small satchel she wore over one shoulder. He was always misplacing the inventory and she'd taken to keeping it with her to make the transitions a little easier. André patted his daughter on the head as though she was a child and continued talking with the captain of the _Jamur Blau_. The girl tilted her head forward and went back to spying on the world through the thin veil of silk that covered her hair and most of her face. It was an affectation she'd continued from her time on the Vulcan desert. It kept her hidden from the world and she felt safer when she was hidden.

She stood at her father's side as he conversed with the blue humanoids, but she noted a young man staring at her. Ignoring him proved impossible during the next few weeks when he appeared wherever she was, smirking at her and teasing his sister until she cried and making the doctor's daughter frown. Normally the boy would never have registered on her radar, but then again, nobody had ever paid attention to her before. Everybody was happy to see her father but other than a cursory nod, most people concentrated on the older man. This was the first time somebody had actually noted her existence.

She wasn't impressed by the boy at all. He was cocky and arrogant, and paraded through the ship as though he owned it. His self-importance amused her, but shyly she reverted back to the strict teachings of her childhood to restrain the smirk. Living on the capital city on Vulcan for a year had been one of her earliest memories, and she still missed the hot, dry air and the quiet, solemn ways of the educated alien doctors that made frequent forays to her father's villa there. This boy, Jasenaughtaghan Blaupunoctupato, chattered incessantly at her until she thought she'd scream for silence. He planned to grow up and take command of his father's ship and run his own cargo empire. The girl found she liked listening to his plans. The future was not something she ever thought about, but he had ideas about everything and spouted them out in his cocky self-assured way.

Rolling her head around on her neck to ease the stress knot that formed there, she saw the little girl, much younger than her own age, watching from the behind a cargo container. One thumb was firmly ensconced in her mouth and her eyes were filled with wide-eyed wonder. Jaynamaratu Blaupunoctupato, carried a doll in one arm and the doctor's daughter would soon come to know that she was never without it.

Jase and Jaynie, as she came to call them, were the youngest members of the crew. The Blau's homeworld was very far away, and the children had never even seen it. The doctor's daughter had that in common with them; she could hardly remember Earth either, except that it was filled with men who argued with her father. Her father said they were dictators, but she was never sure if he meant it since he only spoke of them when he was frustrated. Jaynie loved to have the doctor's daughter brush her hair and tell her tales of life on other planets and ships. Life aboard the _Jamur Blau_ was all Jaynie had ever known. Jase used to break up their quiet moments by pulling his sister's hair and running away, amused by the anger stirred up in the older girl as she defended the child on Jaynie's behalf.

They were supposed to be on board for four months, but something happened to an engine. Andie could never remember what exactly, but it necessitated a stop for repairs on the closest planetoid, a moon that encircled the main planetary body of Daihana. Nobody was allowed on the Daihana homeworld without invitation from the Sai himself, so the little moon would have to do. The surface was barren rock and barely habitable, but fissures at periodic points opened up to an underground world of wonder. The rocks mined there were the key to the propulsion system in the interplanetary ships that patrolled the stars around the central planet, and they gave off both heat and oxygen when broken by the pickaxes. The luminescent rocks made the walls glow like they were made of stars and Jase and his sister were fascinated by them. The doctor's daughter refused to step very far into the caves though. Stubbornly she remained near the door, her jaw clenched hard enough to make grinding noises with her teeth. "I don't like the dark," was her only explanation, refusing to speak of the terrors she suffered on the earlier mining colony. She lingered near the cavern openings and Jaynie was content to climb into the lap of the woman and play with her dolls in the faint outdoor light while Jase hovered nearby, hoping the young woman would need his assistance for something.

The old Sai Taimek was informed of the visitors on the Segun Moonbase, and sent an invitation for the Great Doctor to be received at court. It seems his daughter-in-law was in physical distress. She'd never recovered after giving birth to their first and only child several years ago and her health was failing. Andre was flattered and pleased to go. He invited his daughter to join him, but Jaynie protested the loss of her new friend, and with amusement, Andre left his daughter in the care of the ship's medic who happened to be the children's mother. So eager to learn more about his temporary hosts, Andre exited the cavern unaware of the dark glowers of the nearly silent miners toiling endlessly in their dark and dirty world. Most of them had been born in this network of caverns, and most expected that their children would be born there, taking up the pickaxes to maneuver the photophosphorescent rock from the walls of the moon. Until recently most expected to die here as well, but now they had plans. They were ready to take their place on the sunlit surface of the major planet. They were organized.

Andie remembered standing at the mouth of the main cavern, where the atmosphere was thick with dirt and thin with oxygen, watching her father take off in a small transport shuttle embossed with the logo of the king. A shadow darted away from the place where they ship had lifted off but as Andie turned her head to focus on it, the sky was lit up with a bright orange cascade of fire. The explosion in the sky dropped debris upon her head as she screamed. The intense light left spots of color in the center of her vision, and she was unable to verify whether or not her father had perished. Bodies seemed to rush around her, and she realized she had fallen to the ground. A strong hand gripped her arm and dragged her to her feet. Distantly she recognized Jase as her guide and realized Jaynie was holding on tightly to her neck. A flurry of people rushed around her, pushing against her, trying to separate her from her friends, but Jase remained determined. He refused to let her go.

The trio reached the doors of the _Jamur Blau_, located on the landing pad, just as a roar of sound issued behind them. The miners had overthrown their guards and were now heading for the landing pad to procure their transportation off this barren rock to the sunlit world they dreamed of. Captain Blau ordered the doors sealed, grimacing at those crewmen left behind in the tide of the angry mob. The three youngsters were the last ones through the door and were shoved further inside with a curt order from Blau to his son to get the engines primed for take-off. The older man struggled to seal the hatch behind them, as dirt covered hands reached out to force their way into the foreign craft. Captain Blau fell beneath their surging feet and was trampled to death.

Inside all the regular crew were sealing doors and hatches behind them, hoping to fend off the crazed assembly. Jase continued to drag the two girls with him into the cockpit, sealing the door behind him before setting to work on powering up. Security cameras recorded his father's final resting place, and Jase faltered as he sealed up the outer hatches. The scent of fuel burning could be detected as the old engines roared to life and the cargo vessel left the ground. In the corridor outside the cockpit, fists pounded on the door and voices were raised in an unintelligible babble, begging for food or promising retribution for their terrible condition. Through the porthole, the landing pad could be seen overrun with mutineers tearing through the uniformed guards and overfilling the few cargo ships that had not taken to flight so quickly. Jase took one look at his father's body, twisted and mutilated on the ground and gunned the engines, pulling into the sky and leaving a trail of bodies on the landing pad behind him, burned to a crisp from the ignition.

With the mob screaming and scrambling in the corridors of the ship behind him, Jase tightened his jaw and set a course for the main planet just to get them off his ship. It took two hours to cross the distance with the insurgents continuing to howl and wreak havoc in the vessel on the other side of the solid door. The Royal Daihan Air Brigade met him in midair and told him via official communications that any unauthorized landing parties would be met with deadly force. Jaynie sobbed incoherently in the arms of her new friend as Jase set the final course.

The RDAB fired upon the _Jamur Blau_ as it entered Daihan airspace. Jase fired back. The portside landing thruster was burned out ; the other had been damaged in the frenzy to get off the Segun Moonbase. Taking heavy fire, the _Jamur Blau_ sustained the fatal blow and dropped like a stone out of the sky, burning through the atmosphere like a falling star. The landing was abrupt. The lower levels of the ship were flattened in an instant. In the belly of the vessel, Mrs. Blau's life was cut short as she was wrapping the wounded arm of a crewman when the floor and the ceiling were smashed together abruptly, flattening them both together without even a wisp of light between them. Smoke billowed out of the wounded ship, and fires burned from several places. A few of the other cargo ships had managed to get off the ground with their heavy loads and untrained pilots; they had followed Jase's mad dash for the Daihan world and landed with the same brutal finality in the grassy countryside.

No longer idyllic, the peaceful meadow was overrun in less than an hour by Royalist troops sent to secure the area. True to their word, they did use deadly force against all who landed without authorization and more of the victimized miners fell under the gun. Jase pulled open a small hatch in the floor of the ship and the three young people slipped outside, keeping their heads down in a world suddenly bent on their annihilation and running for the cover of the trees. A few of the unfortunate rebels made it to safety while others died screaming for sanctuary.

That night was long and cold as the three slipped away in the dark, putting as much distance between themselves and the men who hunted them. The two older ones took turns keeping an eye out, as the Royalist army continued their search for survivors. One would carry an exhausted Jaynie while the other would forge a path and they managed to cover a great deal of ground. The dawn showed them no relief. Outsiders were considered dangerous due to the murderous mutiny in the mines and the natives were eager to call in the Royalist army at any sight of someone different. Since the Daihana natives had tails and yellow skin, the off-worlders, with their pink and blue skin, were easy to spot.

Jaynie sobbed until she fell asleep in her brother's arms when they finally stopped to rest. Scared and hungry, the doctor's daughter slipped away while the siblings slept, lured by the smell of something on the night air. She'd once met an alien who taught her the art of picking things like locks and pockets; it was a skill that came in handy when her absent-minded father forgot the combination on his travel trunk. It wasn't hard to slip inside a small farmhouse and make off with a small handful of necessities. Jaynie woke to a breakfast of bread and fruit and was mollified in her grief as she begged to hear the story of how her new friend had procured the items with awestruck hero worship. She snuggled inside her purloined blanket, worn like a cape, and squeezed her dolly tightly. Jase just looked at his new companion with interest. It seemed she was more than just a pretty face after all.

They made camp in the countryside, procuring a few items as necessary from the locals through larceny and subterfuge. Between the two of them, they had blankets and a cooking pan, but as awareness of the rebellion grew, it became harder and harder to eke out an existence. "We can't live like this forever," Jase pointed out. "We need to make a stand!"

The doctor's daughter mistakenly believed that he was taking up what she considered a just cause; to fight for the rights of the miners to live as they wished. It wouldn't occur to her until it was too late that he meant to make the Royalists pay for their part in his parents' deaths. Others from the mining colony had survived in the woods. They were making themselves known by attacking Royal convoys and assaulting the occasional camps. It was no longer safe to be camping in the woods; there were too many patrols. Agreeing that there was safety in numbers, Jase and his girls made plans to join the Rebels.

They sauntered into a rebel camp one night and offered their assistance in return for Rebel protection, offering a crate as a sign of their good faith. The crate bore the royal insignia and had been part of a delivery of fruit on its way to the palace. The Rebels welcomed their newest recruits as the ragtag camp savored the succulent fruit.

Random acts of sedition made headlines in the all newspapers still choosing to print what they deemed worthy, rather than passing on the controlled information sent down from the Royal Palace. A shipment of silks meant for the Sai was waylaid. His favorite conveyance was shunted off the road and into a deep mud hole, injuring but not killing the soldier who drove it. The driver was returned to the capital city a few days later, naked as the day he was born, but otherwise unmolested. Unless you counted the brown paint on his torso, that instructed all who could read to "give peas a chance." Boxes full of stationary went missing from several Royalist army bases and the royal army was in disarray. Twice in the same week a contingent had been dispatched far away from their base camp to the outer rim of the fighting zone, claiming the old Sai had sent them direct orders to maintain the borders. The second captain actually procured the note, signed with the royal seal. It was identified as part of the missing cargo of stationary.

In a fit of rage, Sai Taimek ordered the extermination of the rebellion and sent out his RDAB with greater frequency, trying to discover the location of their camp. Within a short time, the fighters and scout planes needed refueling, a problem made impossible by the silent and empty mines on the rich Segun Moon. The Sai made a pronouncement; for the good of the kingdom, the mines must reopen. First he drafted the prisoners from the jails on the central planet. When the jails ran dry, ordinary citizens were selected with or without their consent. In other words, people were conscripted into service to be tossed into the dark fissures on the barren moon in order to continue production of the photophosphorescent rocks. They were nabbed by a secret organization known only as the Special Daihan Unit.

The SDU quickly became feared more than the Sai himself. They took liberties and acted on gossip without procuring evidence. People were taken from the streets and from their beds without warning and anyone who spoke out against the government or the SDU were seldom seen again. In an effort to curry favor with the Unit, citizens offered information about other citizens in the hopes that they would remain above suspicion. Neighbors were tattling on each other. Each faction had its own spies. Nobody knew who to trust.

Nobody felt safe anymore.

Chaos reigned. More of the cities suffered; not just the outlying countryside where the initial mutineers landed. Cities were bombed. Women and children were not exempt from violence. Bodies lay wasting away in the streets, unclaimed. The Rebel army, horrified at the havoc wreaked upon a world they only wanted to be part of, spoke out fervently for peace. A message was sent to the Sai, and to several news agencies, requesting a meeting with the High Council to discuss an end to the violence and the rebuilding of cities and homes, in addition to enhancing working conditions in the mines and allowing all citizens the freedom to choose the lifestyle that best suited them. Given the public broadcast of the request, the Sai had no choice but to agree

or lose the support of the Royalist army, made up of common people who were already grumbling about the forced service in the mines. His hands were already bloodied from his creation of the SDU, a group that seemed to comply with his orders less and less.

Taimek agreed to a meeting, but set up an ambush. The peaceful envoy was slaughtered and the king vowed that he would never allow the rebellion to flourish after all they had done to him. The bodies of those Rebels found at the peace talks were dismembered and many pieces were fixed to the Royal city walls to deter others from rebellion. One man escaped the slaughter and in his panic at seeing his comrades pulled apart while they still lived, he fled directly back to the main camp. The SDU followed him and the Royal army was not far behind. Their orders were to exterminate everyone they saw. Both factions converged on the main Rebel camp and the slaughter began. It wasn't just the Rebels that were killed. The Royal army attacked the willful insurrectionists in the SDU as well. The SDU responded in kind.

The last of the Rebel leaders broke apart and fled. Andie and Jase were out on a scouting mission for the Rebellion when they saw the smoke rising from camp. They raced back to their destroyed home in time to see tiny little Jaynie Blau being dragged away by a member of the Royal army. They joined the last of the fray, scattering both the Royalists and the remaining SDU, but suffering in the process. Jase's rage had been great and in his fury, he had been shot in the leg and hit over the head. Andie had followed Jaynie and her captor but had been brought down by an SDU officer before she could rescue the girl. A hot brand had been pulled out of a fire burning in the supply tent and shoved into her shoulder. Jase arrived out of nowhere and killed the man attacking his friend. While Andie tended their wounds, she and Jase agreed that they could not allow Jaynie to remain a captive. They would do anything to rescue the child.

They made plans to infiltrate the main city through its unguarded sewer tunnels. The smell was almost as awful as they muck they had to wade through, but they made it inside, covered in dark hooded cloaks. A select group of rebel spies followed them. Once inside the city walls, the spies split off to inflict their own mayhem, while the alien pair slunk through the streets, seeking out the path that the Royal guardsman might have taken with the frightened blue girl.

Jaynie was having a better day than she might have expected. The guardsman who dragged her away was the husband of one of the young princess's maids. He didn't believe that civilian targets should be attacked, or that private citizens should suffer such heinous crimes as he'd seen outside the protected walls. He was supposed to kill everyone, but when he broke into the camp and found this small child still clutching her doll to her chest and sobbing, he couldn't bring himself to end her life. Presenting her to his wife was another matter. She was furious that he would risk bringing down the SDU on their heads for a foreigner, but there was nothing else to be done with her. They couldn't take her back. The guardsman's wife promised to find a way to sneak the child through the castle to the new building that was reported to be a hospital, hoping that one of the alien workers would take the child far away. Jaynie was secreted inside a large basket and hustled inside. She climbed out and wandered away when the maid turned her back for just a moment, and found the quiet halls and peaceful gardens of the castle were a pleasant change from the dirt and noise of the rebel camp.

She was discovered, of course, although with better luck than she should have expected. The young SaiMei, who was also supposed to remain in her rooms all day, had slipped out to see what excitement the rest of the castle could offer. She stumbled upon the strange blue-tinted girl in her favorite quiet space and as each girl, barely more than a child, studied the doll clutched in the arms of the other, they became immediate and fast friends. Mei took Jaynie back to her rooms and they hid there for several days, playing together in secret. Jaynie found _she_ was the one with the marvelous stories to tell and had regaled the princess with tales of heroism starring her big brother and her very best friend over tea and cakes.

The old nanny became suspicious when her habitually willful charge was pleasant and meek, and discovered the stranger hiding in the closet when she surprised them with an inspection. Knowing the old Sai would kill every member of the child's staff as a warning to others, the nanny did not report the blue alien to the guards, but sent for one of the maids to take the stranger away.

The maid who arrived was stunned to find the stranger she was meant to get rid of was the same child that had eluded her earlier. She was just as eager as the nanny to get the blue child out of the castle. The SDU had eyes everywhere and it wouldn't do to be caught with something as dangerous as this. The latest gossip claimed that the rebels were having such great success because they were aided in their felonious works by strangers from a faraway sky ship; she suspected this blue-skinned monstrosity was part of that group of strangers. She cursed her husband for bringing this blight upon their house as she spirited the kid away in another laundry basket. Returning to her own home that evening, she was startled again to discover two more strangers in her home, holding her husband at gunpoint. The female invader dropped her gun as she enveloped the smaller child in her arms, weeping softly in relief. The male was relieved but showed no intention of allowing the guardsman and his wife to live in spite of their unknowing assistance to his only relative still alive. It was the pink-skinned female that spoke to him in whispers and made him drop his weapon. She suggested that they leave this world forever, and the blue boy allowed himself to acquiesce.

With a promise of silence from the wife, the guardsman promised to help the trio reach the airfield in secret. The quiet sound of footfalls outside set them all on edge. Although nothing came of it, the maid had enough subterfuge and demanded that her husband get these spies out of her house. Slipping out the backdoor was easy but escaping into the night was not. A mandatory curfew had been put in place and there was nobody else on the street at this hour of night. There was no busy marketplace to hide in. There were only a few nooks and shadows to use as cover. Sneaking through the deserted streets brought all of them to the brink of frustration.

Early in the morning they seemed to catch a break. One of their former rebel companions had set off a series of explosive devices on the far side of the city and most of the peacekeeping force seemed headed in that direction. Their nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Seeing a shadow move, Jase whirled around with his weapon at the ready, letting an involuntary spasm choke the trigger. A small boom sent the deadly projectile flying through the air to land in the chest of the SDU operative who'd been following them. Andie gasped and ran to assist him, applying pressure to the wound and trying to keep him alive, as she had done for so many others in the months she spent in the rebel camp. His blood seeped out under her hands as Jaynie moved in closer with her eyes wide. The conversation between the Royalist guardsman and the blue haired boy was carried out in desperate whispers and both were unaware of the second shadow moving forward. Jaynie bent down just as another weapon was discharged.

The little girl let her doll drop from her nerveless fingers as her blood gushed from the hole that appeared in her chest. Her mouth took the shape of a round "o" of surprise as she toppled to the ground behind them. The second SDU officer had only a moment to revel in the capture of the world's most wanted outlaws before the little girl's brother brought his life to an end. Jase rushed to his sister even as Andie continued to try and aid the first victim. The Royalist guard grabbed the young woman by the shoulders. "Others will have heard that noise. We must hurry."

His words were unnecessary. The SDU officer was already dead. Although she had seen many terrible things on many different worlds, the woman had never felt someone die under her hands before. Fear began to burn in her chest that she might have the same experience with her two favored companions, and she was spurred into action. Decisively she rose and dragged the boy to his feet. He stubbornly carried his sister's not quite lifeless body and the foursome continued to make their way to the airstrip.

Using the dead SDU's pass card to gain access to the runways was simple. The landing pad was humming with activity even though it was late at night. A prison transport was just loading convicted felons on board in chains, preparing to take them to the mining colony on one of the moon bases. Another ship, registered as an official state transport was being prepared nearby. A group of state officials were just now exiting the waiting room, walking on a red carpet to the ship where a pretty flight attendant waited to serve them. A twin engine cargo ship rested in between them both and was just offloading its final parcels to the ground.

Jase moved quickly to lob a hand grenade at the prison ship, assuming that while the guards moved to protect the prisoners, the government dignitaries would flee at the first sign of trouble, making certain to save their own skin, thereby clearing a path to the twin engine cargo ship. For a moment Andie thought she was hallucinating. As Andie hovered behind the boy, she took note of one particular government official, hurrying back to the waiting room. The tall blond man was very familiar and relief washed over her. "Dad!" she called out. He couldn't hear her over the whine of engines or the wind that was picking up. Andie moved closer.

The blast created chaos. Several prisoners wasted no time in jumping the guards as they moved in closer to keep order. The guardsman who was helping them carried the bleeding child and struggled to maneuver her into the waiting cargo hold. Jase used a gun to lay down cover fire as he too raced for the relative safety of the cargo ship. The diplomats did scurry back inside, except for the famous doctor, who struggled with the villain clutching his arm until he discovered the villain had the dirty, thin face of his daughter. Caught between the weapons fire between the prison guards protecting the prisoners and the palace guards escorting the dignitaries, Andre allowed his daughter to drag him the shorter route to safety, which was onto the cargo ship.

The Royal guardsman leaned out the loading door, firing a gun blindly into the night while Jase warmed up the engines. The guardsman caught a blast deep in his shoulder and fell forward to the ground. He bled on the tarmac as the cargo bay doors clanged shut. Several men came running, looking surprised that their ride was leaving without them. Jase paid them no mind; he gunned the engines to a high whine and the heat from the side mounted rocket boosters kept them at a distance. The blue alien held grimly to the helm as the purloined freighter navigated the tricky path to freedom.

Father and daughter worked frantically to stem the injury to the little female to no avail. The father muttered under his breath as they worked. He had been brought before the king when his transport landed, hindered by the engine that had exploded upon takeoff from the Segun Moonbase. He convinced the young prince, SaiDai, of the need for advancements in medicine and chided him on his lack of medical facilities as he tended the wounded transportation crew. Rather than having him killed, the SaiDai requested that the doctor design a medical facility that would keep his people alive in these tempestuous times. That was how the great doctor spent the last six months.

"I thought you were dead!" she hissed. It was a terrible blow to learn that while she mourned him, while she fought for her life, he'd been working. In all the time they'd been together, with all the worlds they'd seen and the countless lives they'd left behind, it had always been an adventure because her father had been there to sweep her up in his great arms and take care of her. Now as she watched the life seep from the small child whose last breath left her chest with a gurgle, she realized he'd never really been there when she needed him.

Shaken by the death of a girl who could have been safely ensconced at the castle if her father had even spared his daughter a single thought, the girl commanded the blue pilot to get ready to disembark a passenger. In spite of his protests, Andre was left standing on the docking portal of the next space station they came across. His daughter closed the door in his face and never stopped watching him until he faded away in the distance.

The twin engine cargo ship was renamed for the dead girl. The crew of three, Jase, Andie and the alien they'd acquired who was more lizard than humanoid and who had been more than happy to jump on board the cargo ship rather than be drafted into the mines of the Daihan world, rambled through the stars looking for something else. Duomo convinced them to try and take on work. The two youngsters exchanged a look. The lives that they had known were over.

* * *

"We tried getting work as independent freight carriers, but most people don't want to work with kids as young as we were." Andie paused in the telling of her tale to pour more coffee. She offered the refill to Jon, but he shook his head, feeling a little nauseated. He shifted uncomfortably and scratched Porthos' ears.

"We did get some work but got hit by pirates. That's how we wound up at Eckta's for repairs. Repairs are expensive; that's how I wound up taking a job there. I took a job as a waitress, but I broke the nose of the first guy who touched my butt without permission. Eckta didn't like that. I bandaged the nose, which Eckta did like. He hired me as a medic. One night I was tired and there was a brawl starting and I really didn't feel like bandaging all those idiots up, so I jumped on stage and offered a distraction in the form of a dirty little ditty I know." She flushed slightly. "There may also have been a naughty dance involved." She sipped her beverage. "Eckta made me a star. He made up a stage name and gave me a headline. He says mystery sells." She shrugged. "I guess some people like that sort of thing."

"I worked there for a while and one day I knew it was time to move on. So I hitched a ride to Earth and found my way to San Francisco, where I met someone who claimed he could help me with my plans for the future."

Jon pondered all that thoughtfully. "What made you leave the Reef?" he asked. It sounded like she had a stellar career started there, even if it didn't sound like something he would ever want.

For the first time in her quiet narrative, she hesitated. "It was time to go. Jase and I broke up and some of the patrons had grown persistent in their wish to make me their own personal dancing girl. I didn't want to be there anymore."

"Why'd you break up?" He wasn't certain why it mattered; it didn't sound as though Jase had been all that reliable anyway.

Once again, she paused. "We had a nasty fight about finances," she admitted. _That much was true._ "He thought I had money to lend him and grew upset when I said I didn't."

"I thought you made a living as a showgirl?" he teased.

"It was a good living too," she smiled tightly. "But I also paid for room and board and a berth for the ship on the Reef, and at Eckta's, those things can be expensive."

Jon had a feeling that wasn't the whole story, but considering the sick feeling he got every time he heard another of her stories, he wasn't sure he wanted to press the issue. He was pretty certain he could draw a picture with reasonable accuracy. Jon swirled the dregs around his mug and pondered several things. Like what it must have been like to be very young and be abandoned by your father in the middle of a war on a planet where your skin color made you stand out like a sore thumb. His childhood had been pretty serene. Aside from his father's slowly debilitating illness, he couldn't say that anything especially tragic happened, but it seemed this woman had pitched a battle with survival her entire life.

"That's how you came to Starfleet?" Archer asked as his head kept spinning.

"No, that's how I came to U.E.S.P.A.," she clarified, pronouncing it 'yoo-spah' as most of its personnel did with affection. The United Earth Space Probe Agency had been the precursor to Starfleet, but had become less important as the Warp Five Complex had gained momentum. It seemed people had become less interested in their own planet and more concerned with the deep space probes that had been launched by the Fleet. U.E.S.P.A. had lessened in popularity, but they still held a great deal of power when it came to defending and exploring Earth.

"How did you fare with the Space Agency?" He got back to the story.

"Very well," she answered. "They thought I was a perfect candidate for their offices and made arrangements for me to acquire a medical degree at Starfleet, since it's the best course for medicine. They made arrangements when I'd finished to work in some of the best venues available, and recently made it possible for me to be admitted to the stellar exploration program."

"Your shoddy records are a result of their management?" he guessed.

"They thought that a doctor who'd had run-ins with pirates and lived as a showgirl might not exude the right attitude of concern and heart-warming professionalism that one might wish in a physician. Frankly, most people don't understand my childhood; the few people who do know of it have frequently told me they wished they didn't. I'm sure they mean well, but I don't …really know what to make of their pity." Andie wrinkled her nose. "The boarding school story doesn't scare people. It's worked out pretty well so far."

"I don't know how I feel knowing that a member of my crew, who was put in place by somebody else, has falsified information coloring their file." Jon sighed. He longed for the days when getting to know his crew meant sharing boring vacation stories over breakfast.

"I can't help what's in my file," she pointed out. "I can tell you that the qualifications that brought me here are genuine. I'm a good doctor. None of that was falsified. Only the parts of my story that happened before I came to Earth are a little off. I don't believe that what happened in the distant past should color my abilities in the present or block my positions in the future."

"It's not that I don't believe you," Jon started to explain. "It's just that…"

"You don't want me around," she finished. He could hear the desperation just under the surface of her voice.

"I'm not sure that the NX program is the right place to stick people who have trouble working inside the confines of an established protocol." _He didn't like liars; that's what it came down to_.

"This is only a test run. If I can handle working on a starship for six months, I'll be transferred to another ship and you won't ever have to see me again!" She could hear Jase's voice in her head; _they don't want you because you're different._

"I wish it was that simple." Jon swallowed hard, afraid he was going to throw up, and he didn't think it would solidify his position as an authority figure with this woman if he vomited after her little tale of woe.

"You can't do this!" She jumped to her feet and began pacing. "If you send me back now, they're going to stick me in some research facility and I'll never see the stars again!" The thought made her chest ache.

"You'll see stars every night when you lift your head," he pointed out. Immediately he felt bad for being so glib. He found he was a little put off that she was working for Starfleet as a second choice, rather than being fully devoted to the organization that he had fought so hard for his entire life. Since his own priorities were clearly established with his father's work, he was taking it personally that she thought she could slip in under the radar and expect everyone to look away.

Andie had a lot of things to say; they were begging to fall from the tip of her tongue, but she could see the unease in his eyes. He didn't want her here, and now she'd given him the perfect reason to send her home. "Please, Jon, let me stay! I'll do anything you want!" She wrung her hands nervously before her, pleading desperately to grant her clemency.

"As your captain," he stressed the word, "I can only point out that since you've come on board you have brought with you a variety of distractions and disturbances. You had a disagreement with the Azorians and they damaged a shuttle pod nearly killing two members of my crew. You had a personal history with members of the research team at the Protean Station and they tried to kill you, and nearly succeeded killing other members of Starfleet."

"Neither of which were my fault!" she protested, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

"I won't even get into the regulations you sacrificed with the Klingons or with members of my own crew!"

"I did not shoot Reed on purpose!" she shouted. "It was an accident!"

"Your ex-boyfriend, a man wanted by pirates and other unsavory types, broke into my ship and set off explosives. He kidnapped you and other members of my crew and took you to a space port frequented by unsavory characters, and you had to start a brawl just to get out of there."

"I didn't let him on board; you did!" she retorted.

"You could have stopped it if you'd told me all this in the first place."

"It wasn't mine to tell! I was under orders…!"

"…by an agency other than the one you claim to work for."

"I do work for Starfleet! I'm a medical doctor working under special contract! All the documentation is legal!"

"Why didn't you look up your mother?"

That question came out of the blue and stopped her in her tracks. "What?"

"I presume you have a mother," he went on. "Why didn't you look her up instead of seeking out the highest ranking official?"

"She remarried several times," Andie faltered. "I don't even know what her name is anymore, or how to find her."

"How can that be? Earth has some of the most advanced…"

"She married in China."

When the Vulcans landed on Earth, all the major powers had joined together in harmony, working toward a more productive and peaceful future, with the exception of one. China was happy to agree to peace negotiations, but was unwilling to concede on matters of finance and trade. They had withdrawn behind their own borders for many years, separating themselves from the rest of the world. Information was not willingly transmitted or shared between the rest of the world and the eastern portion of Asia until quite recently. They had stepped forward just before the launch of the NX-01 and Jon had taken it as a good sign that his father's dream of a single united planetary body was coming true. If Mrs. Brainerd had married inside the borders of China, then all record of her presence and title would be considered lost behind the veil of Chinese confidentiality.

"Did you try contacting your father?" he asked.

Growing tired of this conversation and its seemingly foregone conclusion, Andie's irritation demanded action. She stood and paced restlessly from one end of Archer's bed to the wall in front of the window and back. "I've seen him since we parted after the Daihan incident. I learned that he returned to finish the hospital they were building. He said the rebels broke through the walls of the royal city and assassinated Sai Taimek. They tried forming a Laborer's Party for purposes of government, but they weren't as unified as they thought they were. The Sai's son, the SaiDai, took control, putting an end to the SDU and promising better working conditions. The rebels reinstated the former government and implemented a regulation against off-world interference. In spite of that proclamation, my father was named one of the founding councilmen of the Daihan Research Facility." She noticed Jon's arched brow and huffed. "I met him on Rygel a few year's ago. We had a nice long chat. My mother's name was never mentioned. As soon as I told him I was working for Starfleet, we had a fight and he dropped me off on Vulcan."

Jon pondered that thoughtfully through his pounding head. Porthos rolled over and Jon happily scratched his belly, idly noting a new bump on the puppy's tummy. He reminded himself to have Phlox look at it later.

"Does that help?" she asked acerbically. "Does it make you feel better to feel sorry for my sad state of affairs? Are you actually going to let me stay?" Instead of crying, she covered her misery with sarcasm.

The expression on her face was terrible, as though she was losing everything she ever wanted. This, Archer guessed, was kind of true.

"You can't spend your life in the past," he told her. "You have to consider your future. I don't believe you have one here on _Enterprise_." He watched her struggle to remain passive. "I'll make arrangements for your transport back to Earth in the morning...er, later this morning." A quick glance at the chronometer told him it was well into the Alpha shift by now. She'd made him late for work. "I'd like you to stay in your quarters as much as possible until then."

Nodding wordlessly, she felt her world slipping away. _You can't spend your life in the past, but you could sure be persecuted for it,_ she thought. "Are we finished here?" she asked listlessly. She'd hoped he would be more forgiving in his quarters than he might be tomorrow behind his captain's desk, but it seemed her removal was a foregone conclusion no matter where they might have had this discussion.

His head was nearly swimming at her quick mood changes. "Yes, you're dismissed," he told her gently.

She left his room without another word.


	47. Chapter 47

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 47

* * *

Archer watched her go with a heavy heart. If he had heard her story a couple of years ago, he would have been certain that she was making it up. One tragic experience after another just hadn't seemed possible when the world_, his _world, had been filled with such possibilities. Time spent in the Delphic Expanse had taught him that life in space was always a surprise and usually dangerous. Finding he regretted some of the things he'd learned in the eight month search for the Xindi, he contacted one of the MACO's and asked Sgt. Chang to keep an eye on the doctor. He was relieved that he would be getting rid of the chief problem on board his ship, but he took no pleasure in how that dismissal came about.

Still rubbing his aching chest, Archer crawled under a hot shower, hoping that the heat would help relieve the tension. He seemed to drag through the rest of his morning routine, and opted, in spite of the late morning hour, to stop in the Mess Hall for a cup of coffee before finally reporting to the bridge.

He eyed the buffet filled with breakfast dishes with distrust. It didn't seem worth the effort. His stomach rolled over at the thought of consuming food. Inhaling sharply, Archer was suddenly wracked with a coughing fit. It was easy to blame on the smoky alien interior he'd been subjected to last night. The ache in his chest hadn't dispersed and he made a mental note to add a visit to Sickbay among his morning duties.

The bridge was quiet was he stepped inside. Malcolm was at the tactical station, looking a little bleary-eyed but ready to work. Ensigns Mayweather and Sato were also present, although in completely different states. Travis looked just as perky as a man who'd had a full night's rest rather than a long eventful night, while Hoshi looked like she'd rather be in bed. She sniffled delicately into a tissue and smiled weakly at the captain.

"You look like I feel," Jon commented in what he hoped was a jovial tone of voice.

"I hope that means 'pretty good'," Hoshi joshed in return. Her voice sounded thick, as though she had a terrible cold.

"Status report!" Archer barked quietly, trying not to trigger another coughing fit.

Malcolm responded with the technical details. They were traveling at warp three on a heading that took them farther away from the space station, and closer to the Beta Quadrant. Repairs were progressing although an unusually high number of crewmen had reported late for their duty shifts. Several others had been given leave to make an appearance in the physician's presence.

"Sickbay should be quite busy this morning," Malcolm finished. "One member of the tactical team and two from engineering requested leave to visit the doctor…Phlox, that is, not the other doctor, as well as three members from the maintenance staff."

Archer paced around the bridge as Reed droned on. He circled his chair, looking up as he approached the communications console and noticed Hoshi had her elbows propped up on the console in front of her and was resting her head in her hands. The posture was unfamiliar to the young woman who always stood so straight.

"There's going to be one more," Archer added, ceasing his restless pacing in front of Hoshi's station just as she sneezed thickly. "Report to Sickbay, Ensign. I don't think we need to spread your cold around the command staff as well."

"I can finish my shift, sir," she lied unconvincingly.

"If you infect Ensign Mayweather or myself, neither of us will thank you for it," Malcolm scolded her gently. "I'll call beta shift to fill in for you."

"Ensign Carter has been relieved of duty this morning," Hoshi struggled to get the words out, trying to explain why she remained at her post. "She's sick, too."

"Call in Ensign Shannen," Archer told Reed over his shoulder, and Reed complied. Archer looked at Hoshi sternly and she finally gave in and excused herself. As she headed toward the turbo-lift doors, Archer noticed something else was amiss.

Commander T'Pol was not sitting in her customary position at the science station. Archer turned his head and looked askance at Reed who flushed with embarrassment to have left out such an important detail.

"Commander T'Pol said she'll be working in her quarters this morning," Reed filled in the blanks. "I believe she wanted to stay as far away from Ensign Sato as the bio-hazard filters would allow."

"Tell her it's safe to return," Archer smirked. "Although I might follow her example and return to my room, too." Absently he rubbed at his chest again.

"You're not feeling well, sir?" Reed inquired. Archer coughed once, a thick, wet sound. It suddenly occurred to Reed that the crew may be suffering from more than the usual congestion. Considering the crazy group of people he'd seen in that filthy pirate bar, it might be that somebody brought something more serious back. They might be looking at an epidemic. His jaw clenched as he entertained the idea that the crew might have been sabotaged with some biological contaminant.

If the crew had been poisoned, then he knew damned well who would have done it. Reed restrained the impulse to offer the suggestion out loud. If that damned woman had brought some sort of pathogen back from that dark pit of hell she dragged him into, then there would be no hiding behind her diplomatic credentials. He would receive justice, and if in the process, she might be _persuaded_ to give up the reason she might have sent operatives to earth to kidnap his girlfriend many years ago, then so much the better.

Archer noticed the dark look on Reed's face but chalked it up to a long night and a short sleep cycle. "I might head down and see Phlox myself," he answered, dropping his hand from his face and rubbing it surreptitiously on his pant leg to dry. "Unless there's something else up here that requires my attention?"

"No, sir," Malcolm shook his head. "Everything seems to be progressing as expected." _At least until he could acquire more concrete proof the female doctor might be up to some nefarious schemes_, he added to himself.

"I'll check in later," Archer turned and headed for the lift. "Have T'Pol contact me when she gets up here." The double doors closed behind him with a swish.

* * *

Lieutenant Reed had not slept well. He woke up several times in the night with the choking sensation of black smoke seeping into his lungs, cutting off his oxygen. Over and over he saw the transport deck of the Reef blown out into space like it had a dozen years ago, dissolving any chance he'd ever had of finding Eleanor's killers. Every time he woke, he gasped air into his lungs, wondering why time had never fully healed this wound like the meaningless platitudes spouted by many well-wishers had promised it would. Just before dawn, he had that dream again in all its vivid horror. He was in the alley. The black-garbed aliens teleported down. Eleanor screamed. Malcolm's face hit the ground and as he struggled to rise, he saw the light leave her eyes as she lay beside him. She died right in front of him and he could do nothing to stop it.

He was relieved when his comm. had chirped at a ridiculously premature hour. A crewman from his department had called in sick, and Ensign Sato wanted to know if he would come on duty a little early to fill in. His head felt thick and heavy, as though he'd done a lot of drinking last night, but that hadn't been the case. He dressed and shaved and even used the corner of a towel to shine a spot on his boots. The routine was comfortable and preferable to the life of constant chaos he'd subjected himself to after he signed on with the Section. He liked order and discipline. If he could know everything that might happen, he could prevent the worst of things from happening. It was part of the reason he enjoyed being a tactical officer

It was a relief to get back into his familiar chair and work his way through a familiar routine. Familiarity was soothingly predictable, and after the day he'd had with that damned woman, predictable felt wonderful. Now his routine was being thrown off balance again, due to the growing number of ill crewmen on board. The situation didn't sit well with him.

Thirty minutes later, Malcolm tapped a few keys at his tactical console, getting an update on the repairs to the armory schedule and current diagnostic scan. The restorations made necessary by the attack by the _Jaynie Blau_ were taking longer than Reed expected and he frowned. He sent a message down to the armory requesting an update.

It was not his trusted second in command that answered. "Lieutenant Truax is…uh…unavailable at the moment, sir," Ensign Behr mentioned with a worried look over his shoulder. Even from this distance Reed could hear the sounds of someone vomiting in the comfort station located just outside Reed's cramped office in the armory. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why Truax was "unavailable."

Reed sighed. "Send her to Sickbay when she's finished," he told Behr. "Send me an update on the work schedule." None of the damages seemed to be crucial; it was just a matter of realigning all the targeting sensors and cleaning up last minute details, but every nerve would stand on edge until Reed could officially state that his department was in perfect condition.

The personnel list came up on his console. Reed looked at the science station with concern. T'Pol should be the person to receive the updates, but she still hadn't responded to her post. He supposed that put him in temporary command of the bridge. He looked at the list. It was an update on the sick and injured. Six more crewmembers had just reported to Sickbay. Reed frowned. His head was absolutely killing him but he managed to show up for his duty schedule, and nearly two hours early to boot!

Reed switched seats, opting for the absent science officer's workstation rather than the one most recently vacated. In fact he stayed far away from Hoshi's chair as though the inanimate object itself was cursed with some hideous fate, reaching out with grasping fingers just itching to make him feel worse. Reed had spent plenty of time in medical wards when he was growing up and he had no wish to bring down another allergy on his already aching head.

Skimming through the updated personnel report wasn't easy. Now that more than a dozen crewmembers had signed in to see the physician, finding someone to replace Hoshi wasn't going to be easy. Ensigns Carter and Shannen were both waiting to see Phlox, so Reed sent a request to Ensign Devala for assistance. While he was making notes, he sent a quick message to T'Pol's quarters and to Archer's informing them of the overabundance of illness on board.

* * *

Down in Engineering, Trip was feeling groggy. His head was heavy and his eyes itched. He hadn't slept well last night. The bar had been an eye-opener, that's for sure, with the variety of alien species loitering about. However it was his dreams that had kept him tossing and turning well into his usual sleep cycle.

He dreamed he was alone in the bar watching sexy girl's dance. Soon he was dancing with one of them. She was dressed in red velvet and had pointed ears. The woman he was dancing with was T'Pol. She slid her hand into his hair at the nape of his neck and a familiar shiver ran down his spine. Her clothes kept falling away as he spun her around. When she was finally nude, she turned toward him provocatively, with her arms wide open and he woke up. He didn't know what any of that meant. T'Pol was married now, and Trip wasn't the sort to go after another man's wife, even if they weren't residing together.

Tucker sought refuge, as he always did, near his beloved engines. Given his physical discomfort, Trip opted to stay away from the main controls, delegating that chore to Kelby. Instead, he curled awkwardly into a round maintenance shaft, to perform a level 5 diagnostic on the internal sensor receptors. The work was slow and tedious, just the sort of thing to take his mind off things he shouldn't be thinking about anyways. He wondered if the Vulcans had ever heard of Freud. He made a mental note to ask T'Pol later. He got a nasty jolt when he realized that talking to T'Pol like that might be a bad thing. Being friends without being too friendly was going to take some time to get used to, after what they'd shared together.

Poking his fingers recklessly into the grid, he got another kind of nasty jolt from the electrical grid and he pulled his singed fingers away quickly. A small drift of haze lifted off the sensor conduit and drifted into the air, making him choke. He coughed sharply to clear his throat and suddenly found he couldn't stop. Spasm after spasm wracked his body. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Each cough shook something loose in his lungs, but never expelled the debris fully.

Trip managed to climb out of the access shaft, clutching at his throat and hoping the cleaner, wider space of main engineering would help, but the consistent coughing made the world spin around him. He dropped to his knees as soon as he reached his feet. His face turned purple.

Dimly he recognized a crewman rushing to his side, touching his back. He tried to tell the crewman he was fine, it was just a cough, but he couldn't get the words out. He couldn't catch his breath.

The world spun around him as he sank abruptly into darkness. He never heard the emergency call to Sickbay.

* * *

Archer wasn't happy with his progress in the medical ward. So many people were loitering there that the med-techs couldn't seem to get any work done. Archer was happy to insist that everyone else form a line outside in the corridor, so that he could have a moment to get a quick hypo of something and be on his way. Ensign Ian Black didn't seem happy about his task.

"All medicines should be prescribed by the physician on board," Black told the captain. "I can offer you a small dose of analgesic, but for anything stronger, you're going to need to speak with Phlox."

"All right", Archer agreed with an irritation he tried to hide. "Where's Phlox?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, sir." Black didn't seem too happy about imparting that news either. "Messages have been sent to his quarters, but he's not responding. If there hadn't been such a crowd in here, I would have walked down to see what's wrong with him. It's just not like the doctor to remain in his quarters without word. Of course, he may have acquired whatever is going around and not feel up to the task."

Archer scowled at the Ensign, causing Black to hold his breath. "I'd like that analgesic now," Jon spoke gruffly. "Then I think I'll go pay a visit to the doctor."

"Yes, sir." Ian filled a hypo with a mild painkiller and applied it to the captain's neck.

The medication eased the insistent pounding in his head somewhat and Archer managed a tight smile at the nervous med-tech before striding out the door in search of the absent physician.

* * *

Phlox's quarters were around the corner from Sickbay, far enough away to give the physician a sense of respite from his duties, but not so far that he couldn't come running in an emergency. As the captain approached the correct cabin, he found it harder to breathe. Something was constricting his chest like a vise. He pressed his hand against the wall and bent over at the waist to choke on his own breath until he was purple. It took all his resolve to will the spasms to subside and he drew shallow breaths until the world stopped spinning around him. Removing his hand from its supportive position on the wall wasn't as good an idea as he thought. The floor tilted under his feet and he swayed for a moment. That analgesic wasn't as potent as he hoped it might be.

His fingers were gritty and he rubbed them on his uniform to clean them off. The world still shifted before his eyes. He stumbled down the hall like he was drunk. Jon pulled his hand off the wall to scratch his arm under the blue uniform. Once when he was a kid, he'd acquired a terrible case of poison oak; he'd been itchy for a week. This felt like that. When he reached the T-junction, he turned right instead of left, heading back toward the turbo-lifts instead of toward the doctor's cabin. What he wanted more than anything else was a long hot shower. He hoped the steam and heat would ease the tightness in his chest. Archer managed to take two more steps before pitching headfirst into the deck plating.

* * *

Reed fidgeted restlessly at his station. T'Pol hadn't shown up. Archer wasn't in his cabin. Phlox wasn't responding. And if all that wasn't disturbing enough, the computer sensors chose this particular moment to be utterly and completely useless.

Every time he requested Phlox's location, the computer gave him two different locations. Obviously something was wrong with the computer; Phlox couldn't be in Launch Bay Two at the same time he was in the Mess Hall. Reed ran a low-level diagnostic scan from his terminal, trying to diagnose the trouble, but the results indicated that everything was fine.

"Bridge to Engineering," he called into the com.

"Kelby, here, sir," came the reply.

"There seems to be a problem with the interior sensors," Malcolm told the secondary engineer. "I'll need a Level One diagnostic scan completed as soon as possible."

"I'll add it to the list, sir," Kelby sighed.

Malcolm frowned. A command from the bridge shouldn't be 'added'. It should go straight to the top of the list. "Where's Commander Tucker?"

"He was carried down to the medical bay about an hour ago. I haven't heard about his condition."

"Carried down to Sickbay?" Malcolm was surprised. A quick request to the computer brought up the newly updated sick list, and the chief engineer was on it.

In front of him, Mayweather tried very hard not to look as though he was eavesdropping, but in the small and nearly empty confines of the control center, there wasn't any other distraction to pull his attention. People were dropping like flies around the ship and Phlox couldn't be found. This couldn't be good.

"Get to work on that diagnostic immediately, Lieutenant!" Malcolm barked, cutting off communication. Kelby was not his favorite crewman. He had a tendency to work from a list rather than from his gut, like the chief. His work was good, but not expeditious.

"Bring our speed down to warp two, Ensign," Reed told Mayweather. "I'm going to check on Commander T'Pol and then I'm going in search of Dr. Phlox. You'll have the bridge."

"Yes, sir," Mayweather agreed nervously, reducing speed with practiced ease. He wasn't just in charge; at the moment, he was the only one there. "You know, sir…" He stopped.

"What is it, Ensign?" Malcolm asked abruptly, pausing with his hand hovering over the button to call the turbo-lift.

"This may not be my place, sir, but…there _is_ another doctor on board."

"I'll keep that in mind, Ensign," Malcolm answered coolly. He headed out the door, determined that dreadful woman would never get her hands on another member of his crew.

* * *

T'Pol wasn't answering her door. Reed consulted the main computer from a nearby terminal and the computer confirmed that the commander was indeed inside her quarters. Feeling his knots tie themselves into further knots in his stomach, Reed used his access codes to enter a higher ranking officer's cabin.

The Vulcan was lying across her bed with her hands folded across her abdomen. Her skin was flushed and feverish to the touch. She appeared to be dreaming. Her head rolled from side to side and she mumbled incoherent words in Vulcan as perspiration soaked into her bedding. The sheen of perspiration that covered her skin made her glisten.

"Commander?" he called in a low voice. When she didn't answer he tried her given name. "T'Pol?" There wasn't as much as a twitch from the first officer.

Reed stepped forward and placed his hand on her neck, feeling for a pulse. It was fast and weak. Her chest rose and fell with deep regular rhythm, a peaceful pose considering that every breath she took also made a quiet wheeze as it left her body.

"Reed to Sickbay!" he hit the comm. button in a panic.

"Sickbay here. This is Crewman Cutler."

"Send a medical team to Commander T'Pol's quarters! She's not responding to physical or audio commands!"

"They're on their way, sir."

Reed tried to ignore the tired and slightly panicked tone he heard in the med-tech's response. If he refused to recognize it in her, perhaps he could continue to ignore the same feeling in himself. He used the comm. again.

"Reed to Captain Archer!" The captain failed to respond. "Lieutenant Reed to Captain Jonathan Archer!" This silence could not mean anything good.

Malcolm used T'Pol's personal computer terminal to send out a request for Archer's whereabouts. Archer was in his own quarters, according to the computer. On a hunch, he also sent out a request for that damned woman. To his surprise, he learned she was in her quarters also.

He made another call to the MACO commander. "Put a guard on Dr. Brainerd's door," he told the redhead.

"You want more than one?" Mackenzie asked. "The captain placed Chang there earlier."

"No, one should be sufficient," Reed agreed feeling disoriented. What had the captain learned about that woman that he hadn't told Reed? "Is everything all right down there?"

"Everything's fine, Lieutenant," Mackenzie answered, puzzled.

He signed off without telling her anything further. He turned his head and took another look at T'Pol sleeping so peacefully and wondered what was taking the medical team so long. He made another call in the meantime.

"Chang here, sir!"

"Is the doctor still in her cabin?" Malcolm inquired.

"Yes, sir," Chang confirmed.

"When was the last time you confirmed her presence visually?"

"About twelve minutes ago I asked the doc if she'd like to dine in the Mess Hall for lunch. She declined. I was about to request that a steward send something down."

"You're guarding her, not serving her lunch!" Reed burst out.

"Actually the captain only asked me to keep an eye on her," Chang corrected him. "She's not under house arrest."

"Well, put her under house arrest!"

"Yes, sir!" Chang's voice was crisp. "Under what charge?"

_That's tricky_, Reed thought. _She hadn't actually done anything yet._ He was saved by the door chime. "I'll get back to you," he told Chang, breaking communication and rising to open the door.

Ensign Black entered, followed by Crewman Cooper, the maintenance worker from engineering with a particular grudge against the science crewman Nichols. They set to work on T'Pol's resting form, using a medical tri-corder to get a read on her physical state. "She's like the others," Black announced. He and Cooper began to shift T'Pol onto a gurney to be transported down to Sickbay.

"She's like what others?" Reed demanded. His head was absolutely killing him.

"Three others on board have been admitted to Sickbay with symptoms of the common cold, but they've slipped into this deep catatonic state."

"What are you doing to treat them?" Reed wanted to know.

"We're doing everything we can!" Black sighed irritably. "Phlox hasn't reported for duty, so we're a little shorthanded in the medical lab! Plus it seems like everyone on board has come down with whatever this is, so we're doing the best that we can!" Finishing his rant with a heavy sigh, Black had the good sense to look ashamed. "Sorry, sir," he muttered. "We're a little overwhelmed down there."

"Where's Phlox? Why hasn't he reported for duty?" Malcolm thought he could wait to lecture the obviously tired man on the appropriate tone for responding to superior officers. He made a mental list to return to the topic at a later time.

Black sighed. "I really don't know," he answered dejectedly. "The captain went looking for him, but he never came back with any results." He gestured to Cooper and the two men lifted the gurney with the slight woman on it. Reed scooted out of the way so they could maneuver through the door.

"You know, Lieutenant," Black paused in the doorway to note. "There's more than one doctor on board, and we could sure use a spare."

"I'll keep that in mind," Reed answered dourly. He needed to find the captain.

* * *

The captain wasn't answering his door either. It furthered Reed's uneasiness. Inside he could hear the plaintive whine of a beagle, and Reed took that as an invitation. For the second time that day, he used his security codes to enter the cabin of a superior.

Archer wasn't in the room, but Reed could hear the shower running. He stepped over Porthos and into the bathroom, where he nearly tripped over a bundle of clothing on the floor. The captain was curled up on the floor of his shower while steam rose up around him. Malcolm moved closer and stepped inside, shutting off the heated water and kneeling on the wet floor.

"Are you all right, sir?" he inquired, thankful that the captain chose today to shower in his underwear.

Archer looked up from the slick tile and saw Reed bending over him. "I was…trying to...get Ph…Phlox," he panted. Every word seemed forced out of his chest with effort. "Had to…turn…back." He held up his arm. Tiny pink marks that looked a lot like mosquito bites covered his forearms. "Itches," he gasped. "Wanted…to go…to bed."

"Let's get you down to Sickbay," Malcolm slid an arm under Archer's shoulder to help the taller man to his feet. "Then I'll go looking for Phlox." Grunting and groaning the two men managed to climb to their feet. Archer's body was so hot it felt like he was on fire, but still he shivered in the cool, dry air outside the shower.

It took a bit of wrangling to wrap the captain's robe around him, and push his feet into a pair of sneakers without socks, but both men were determined not to parade the captain around the ship in his underwear if it could be helped. Porthos bounded down the corridor ahead of them, warning the crew with soft barks to get out of the way. Not that they met any crew; most everyone seemed to be congregating in the medical ward.

There was certainly a crowd outside Sickbay. There were so many coughing, sneezing, wheezing, scratching crewmen there that Reed wondered who was running the ship. The crowd parted to let the captain through, falling silent as their fearless leader was felled by the common cold.

Reed had time to notice that most of the bio-beds were taken, even as Ensign Mandara left her position beside Ensign Mazaro, who looked flushed and dazed, to step forward and assist Archer into one of them. Mandara was scheduled in the science department; she only worked in Sickbay when there was an emergency that required extra help. Ensign Julien was also there. They both looked a little ragged around the edges as they ministered to the growing number of coughing crew members. The med-techs gave the captain priority over the others, and as they worked, Reed turned his head around. From behind the thin privacy curtain, he recognized T'Pol who continued her unnatural slumber. In the other direction, he could hear whispers as Cutler worked over his second, Lieutenant Truax. Truax didn't seem to be responding very well to whatever medication they were offering her. Ensign Mandara completed her initial scan and approached the armory officer.

"Where's Dr. Phlox?" Reed asked, nervous about standing amid the dozen or so crewmen who sniffed and sneezed and coughed and wheezed. Whatever disease they had, appeared to be spreading quickly, he noted, trying not to inhale too deeply.

Mandara turned her dark eyes toward him. "I expected to treat a lot of hangovers this morning," she sighed. "But this looks like we might have a real contagion on our hands. Nine more crewmen reported to Sickbay in the last half hour. That makes a total of twenty-three this morning. They're showing symptoms of an infection, but the computer can't determine what's causing it. The readings don't make any sense. I've asked Engineering to check out the environmental controls, but they say they're backlogged on repairs from the explosions. Nobody can seem to find Phlox and the computer's gone wonky. It places him in more than one place at a time."

Ensign Black stepped up, fresh from washing his hands in the basin at the back of the room. "Computer's been like that all morning," he told Reed. Absently he scratched his arm under the blue uniform. "The answers don't make sense. It's like the computer has acquired whatever virus the crew has."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Reed snapped. "Mechanical parts don't suffer the same illnesses as humans!"

"Well then something else is very wrong," Black pointed out. His curly black hair was standing on end from the repeated finger-brushings it had undergone today. "Look, we don't have the medical expertise for this. The crew doesn't seem to be responding to tradition anti-virals. I don't know what's causing their infection or how it's spreading. Some of the people in Sickbay are getting worse. I...I don't know what else to do for them."

"Call…Trip," Archer wheezed from his bio-bed. Whatever hypo the med-techs had offered him, hadn't done anything to help with his breathing.

"He's right over there, sir," Black pointed out. On a bio-bed to Archer's right lay the engineer. His skin was flushed dark red with fever, and would have obliterated the red pustules on his arm if it weren't for the fact that they had acquired black heads that stood out against the other color. He kind of looked like a lady bug.

Archer reached out from his bed to grab Reed's arm. "Get…doctor," he wheezed. "Any...doctor." He thought it prudent to add that last bit. Anyone who could make him feel like his chest wasn't being squeezed by a merciless band of steel would be welcomed at this point.

Over at the bio-bed Mandara had recently left, Ensign Mazaro clamped a hand over his mouth. Ensign Bowman, who was waiting with his roommate, was quick to hand over a silver bowl. The sounds of vomiting convinced Reed that his presence here was not necessary.

"I'll head the search for Phlox myself," Reed promised, backing toward the door. "And I'll see about sending you some extra hands to help out."

"Thanks," Mandara sighed, taking the used bowl from Bowman with distaste.

"You know, there's more than one doctor on board at the moment!" Ensign Black called out helpfully as Reed left.

* * *

Reed sent a quick message to the bridge from the wall monitor at the second junction away from the coughing and sneezing. He informed them, well, he informed Travis, of the emergency in Sickbay, and requested extra emergency personnel be sent to the medical lab. Mayweather had been on hand when they tried to locate a replacement for Hoshi, so he didn't hold out a lot of hope for reinforcements making it to Sickbay, but he agreed to do what he could. At least he was no longer alone. Crewman Moreno from the armory had joined him on the bridge. Not one of the crew to regularly sit in the curved headquarters, Moreno was nervous and excited to be selected for such an esteemed position. It made the top of his smooth, bald head glisten with exhilaration.

When consulted, the main computer confirmed that Phlox was in the Mess Hall and also in Science Lab 2. Malcolm double checked the readings. The computer was certain that the Denobulan was in two places at once. Just as a test, Reed asked the computer to locate himself. The computer confirmed that Lt. Reed was in the correct place on E Deck. _So it wasn't a full system failure_, Reed thought with comfort. As a second test, Reed looked up the location of Dr. Andie. The computer announced that Andie was not on board. He actually double checked his work to be sure. The third time he made the request, he got the same response. Andie was not on board.

That cleared it up for Reed. The doctor had done something to the ship before skipping out with her pirate pals in the middle of the night rather than face court-martial. Now he had something solid to use against her. His finger hit the com button.

"Reed to Chang!" he barked.

"Chang here, sir!" The man's response was alert and immediate. Clearly he hadn't been taken in a surprise attack.

"How could you let Dr. Brainerd slip out of your grasp?" Reed wanted to know.

"She hasn't slipped anywhere," Chang corrected him with puzzlement. "She's still in her cabin, sir."

"Are you certain of that? Do you have visual confirmation?"

Through the speaker, Reed could hear the tinkle of the door chime. He heard the door swish open. He could even hear the irritation in the doctor's voice when she asked Chang what he wanted this time.

Now Reed was confused. He tapped the inquiry into the computer again, this time receiving confirmation that Dr. Brainerd was in her cabin. Rubbing a hand over his face, he wondered if he was coming down with a fever and hallucinating. "Never mind," he sighed to Chang. "Tell her I'm coming to get her." The connection was disconnected with prejudice as Reed prepared to do something he considered unthinkable.

His crew was in danger. They needed a doctor. For whatever reason, she was the only one they could find at the moment.

Lieutenant Reed was going to have to place the lives of everyone he cared about in the lying, cheating, and possibly murdering hands of a pirate.


	48. Chapter 48

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 48

* * *

Malcolm nodded sternly at Chang who stood a little straighter when his C.O. came around the corner. Squaring off his own shoulders, Reed pressed the button next to the door that housed the bane of his existence and waited for an answer.

He waited a long minute before pressing the button again.

"Is she still in there?" he asked the MACO suspiciously.

"Where else could she go, sir?" Chang replied with an arched brow.

He found he didn't want to think about that. He'd been locked in his room once or twice and managed to get out. There's no telling what she might be doing if she found a way past her guard, or to whom she might be doing it. Malcolm pressed the intercom. "Doctor, I need to speak with you. Open the door." When she still didn't answer, he resorted to pounding on the door with his fist. "Doctor! If you don't open this door, I'm coming in!"

The door slid open to reveal the woman still rubbing her wet hair with a towel. Apparently there'd been time for a quick shower. She didn't look pleased to see him, if her narrowed eyes were an accurate gauge. "Did you come all this way just so that I could invite you to piss off and die? Because that would be really thoughtful of you," she finished with saccharine sweetness. "And you're welcome to get right on that pissing off thing too. No need to wait for an invitation."

"I need you to come with me, Doctor." Words he couldn't believe he was speaking were forced regretfully from his mouth. "There's a medical emergency."

"The captain asked me to remain near my quarters," she responded edgily, staring at him as though he was a snake that might strike. He looked dangerously angry. She wasn't certain she wanted to go anywhere with him. People who traveled with mercenaries didn't always return.

"The captain requested that I bring either doctor to Sickbay."

"Where's Phlox?"

"Phlox is temporarily unavailable," Malcolm responded carefully. _As if she didn't know where Phlox was!_

She stepped backward and allowed him entrance while she sat on her bunk and pulled on a pair of socks. Her room was in disarray and she had to drag her white sneakers out from under her bed. "Why's he unavailable?" she wanted to know. Her voice was muffled as she bent over and tied the laces.

"Are you planning a trip?" he asked, noting the star charts still occupying the monitor on her computer. Was he looking at her escape plan?

Andie slid off the bed and pressed a button, making the charts disappear. At the same time, she opened a large medical text, using the oversized pages to obscure the notebook covered in small scratchy writing opened on her desk. She reached around him to pick up a band, and then began securing her damp hair at the nape of her neck. Her movements effectively pushed him away from her desk and whatever plans she might be hatching there. "Where's Phlox?" she repeated.

"I'm sure you're aware that nobody can find him," Reed answered sharply, still looking around. He wasn't certain what kind of plot he might uncover, but it would be difficult to discern foul items from fair; her room was not at all tidy. It looked as though she might have ransacked every container and drawer in her room this morning. Clothes and books were tossed around in disarray, a stack of data pads took up all the free space on the desk and that orange cat chewed on silken tie that had been caught on the wrong side of her locker door when the garment it belonged to had been tossed inside.

Immediately she froze, in the process of half-heartedly tidying up the mess. "What do you mean nobody can find him?"

"Nobody can find him," Malcolm repeated. "He didn't report for work this morning."

"Why didn't you say so sooner?" she demanded, pushing past him and moving toward the door.

Reed reached out and grabbed her arm. "I have reason to suspect that you may be the cause of his disappearance, but until I have proof or until Phlox is found, your presence is needed in Sickbay. Keep in mind that if I find you're not treating the crew with the utmost care, you will find yourself in the brig. And there won't be anybody with enough clout to get you out!"

Facial muscles clenched tightly. "I would never hurt Phlox," she hissed. "And if you ever again suggest that I would, you'll have nowhere to hide from _me_." Andie yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Get out of my way!" She placed her hand against his chest and shoved him into the wall as she swept out of the room with her head held high.

Reed and Chang exchanged glances and hurried after her, catching up with her at the lift. "Come on, come on, come on," she muttered at the lift door impatiently, throwing Reed a dark look but declining to bait him as the trio stepped inside.

"You seem surprised that he's missing," Reed commented, a little confused. What kind of game was she playing? Blau had mocked her attachments to Denobulans, had referred to them as her good luck charms. Maybe she didn't have anything to do with his disappearance. But if not, then where was the doctor?

She stared stubbornly at the doors, refusing to answer or even acknowledge him. Her toe tapped the ground restlessly.

"You were missing a few minutes ago," Reed mentioned casually. "The computer could not detect your presence on board this ship." Other than a quick darting of her eyes in his direction, she didn't move. He saw her shoulders stiffen, but still she said nothing. He didn't care for the silent treatment.

The doors of the lift opened and she stomped out of the narrow box. Already the armory officer was regretting this. He should have searched the entire ship to find the Denobulan before he ever let that damned woman near his crew. Chang noticed the armory officer's dark glower and sighed. He followed along, rubbing his itchy eyes.

* * *

Sickbay was in chaos.

There were so many people coughing and sneezing as they waited to get medicated that a line formed outside the door and down the corridor on both sides. Crewman Cutler held her place at the door, taking names and checking bio-signs in the corridor, trying to write up a functional list of patients. Andie brushed past them all with only a brief squeeze to Cutler's shoulder as she passed.

"Chang, wait here," she commanded as she breezed past, indicating the corridor outside the medical ward.

Reed shook his head and crooked his finger at the MACO to follow. Chang complied with a subtle eye roll. The MACO was suddenly struck with nostalgia for the fallen major who had been his commander during the mission in the Expanse. He wondered if Reed fought with everyone who came into contact with him, as he fought with both Hayes and the little doctor.

All the bio-beds were taken. Ensigns Black and Mandara were trying to make everyone comfortable. They were stumbling over the presence of the emergency cots that littered the floor in the center of the room. Everyone seemed to be coughing or sneezing or scratching their arms and faces.

"Black, report!" Her short bark cut across the rustle of people as she stood and took in the room in one long sweeping glance. She barely glanced down as patients reached out their hands to touch her, as though she could wave a magic wand and cure what ailed them. She moved through the room, glancing at the medical charts on display as she crossed the room to meet with her med-tech. Those working in the medical lab sighed deeply with relief at the sight of a licensed physician. Black stepped forward, barking out a quick list of symptoms and treatments, while leading her first to the captain's bed. Andie glanced at the data pad, thumbing past a couple of pages as she frowned.

She cut off Black's litany with one hand held up for silence. "There seems to be indications of a sudden and severe allergen response," she announced. "Crack open a box of antihistamines. Apply a dose to everyone still on their feet in the hall." Black stepped away to convey the information to Ensign Mandara. Once he was quiet, she turned her next question to Archer. "Are you allergic to anything special?"

The captain didn't look so good. Three hours after he'd fallen in the corridor on his way to the Denobulan's cabin, and less than one hour since he'd been brought here, his symptoms seemed to be progressing with an alarming speed. His fever raged unchecked, visible by the flush on his skin. His respiratory system was closing up slowly, evidenced by the thickness of his voice and the way he hawked up sticky wads of phlegm with every coughing fit. Pink pustules were beginning to take shape on his arms, visible now since he'd been dressed in the short-sleeved medical gray pajamas. His green eyes were bloodshot and beginning to secrete a yellow substance, giving the impression that he wept constantly.

"I'm not...no allergies," he choked out with effort.

"Really?" she queried sardonically. "I mean it's not like I'm a doctor or anything, but I believe these results indicate an inflamed immuno-response from your allergen receptors." She tapped a few keys on the computer above his head. Jon took offense at her tone.

She looked awfully comfortable stepping into this room with these people. Jon didn't think she ought to get the wrong idea. Although his tactical officer might think he was unaware of the danger, even Jon was aware of the obvious idea that she might have planned this illness to make herself more useful. Jon didn't want to think that she could be so cold-blooded but sabotage is something he thought he should consider. She'd grown up in the wild. She'd lived with pirates. She'd survived at any cost. It's possible that she could be capable of anything. He really didn't know her all that well. "This…doesn't…change…anything." He tried to look stern, but his pitiful visage negated any severe reactions.

Andie studied him for a long moment. At least he was man enough not to wait until _after_ she'd cured the crew to remind her that she wouldn't be staying with them. It was nice of him not to feed a false hope. _Killjoy_, she thought. "Nothing ever does, Jon," she assured him cynically.

Jon opened his mouth to argue, but the quick inhalation brought about another fit of coughing. The coughing triggered more fluids to leak from various parts of his body. Perspiration broke out on his brow from the effort of breathing, and the sweat made his skin itch. That dratted woman slapped his scratching hands away!

"Black, we're going to need calamine lotion," Andie added, taking a quick glance at the other data pads her med-tech pressed into her hands. She brushed past the armory officer by bumping into his shoulder and noticed Sergeant Chang standing inside the door with his weapon held in an attentive position. Her expression darkened. Before she could protest the presence of a guard, her attention was dragged elsewhere.

Across the room Mandara called out for help as the lights above the bio-bed she was currently working on started to beep urgently. Andie moved quickly to the coding patient. Truax lay there; sweaty and thrashing. She gasped for air that would not penetrate her lungs and her body tossed with her agitation. The doctor cursed under her breath and removed the oxygen mask that was supposed to help the woman breathe. "She's allergic to the antihistamine. Her throat's closing up," she told the science officer calmly. "Double check all medical charts before administering the doses. Bring me a list." Opening a drawer nearby, she prepped a hypo-spray and applied a dose of medicine to stop the anaphylactic shock. In seconds, the alarms had stabilized although Truax continued to struggle for breath. Her convulsions had intensified her respiratory distress.

Andie barked orders like a general on a battlefield. "Black,scalpel!" The med tech snapped to life to present the item she requested. The doctor made it look easy to slit a hole in Truax's throat and insert a tube to allow oxygen to flow freely into the woman's chest. Truax's breathing began to even out and Ensign Black sighed with relief.

"Glad you're here, Doc," he nodded tiredly.

Still holding the tube, Andie turned her head to accept the medical tape that would hold the apparatus in place and when she turned back, the clear tube was filling slowly with a black, sticky substance.

"What the hell is that?" she asked in surprise. She called for a sample container, which Ian supplied. Scraping the inside of the make-shift breathing tube, Andie slid some of the goo into the small flask and handed it back to her medical nurse. "It's filling her lungs. I want that analyzed immediately, Ian."

Malcolm stood at the foot of Trip's bed and watched his friend struggle to breathe. His friend's lungs were being filled with the same fluid.

"The computers are malfunctioning." Ian reported this apprehensively, running his hands through his curly black hair as he waited for the explosion of temper from the volatile doctor.

"Get an engineer to make it a priority," she demanded absently, still studying the computer readouts.

Black sighed heavily. "Yes, ma'am," he turned to go.

"Stop!" He turned back. "What does that mean, the computers are malfunctioning?"

"Ensign Mazaro vomited some of that black substance and these are the results," he handed over a small pad. "It doesn't make sense. It just says the genetic material is Denobulan, but I haven't run any tests on Phlox at all today. There shouldn't be any mix-up in the data banks."

Andie frowned. "Vomit implies he ingested the material, but it's infiltrated Barbra's lungs. How's Tim?" she inquired absently. She'd noted the young engineer when she first entered. His skin was flushed and he struggled to breathe like most of the patients in the inner ward. Someone had tilted his bed at an angle, probably hoping to drain whatever fluid was clogging his lungs.

"Stable, sort of," Black told her, beginning to sway on his feet. The young man was exhausted and his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. His curly dark hair stood out at several angles, indicating the number of times he nervously ran his fingers through the tangles.

"Archer!" With one last reluctant look at the woman with the new tracheotomy tube, Andie went back to her first patient. "I need you to order all available hands to begin purging the environmental circulators. Put the crew in haz-mat gear and tell them to use medical contaminant protocols regarding everything they touch. Whatever is infecting the crew is spreading. EV control is the most likely source."

Even with a new dose of medicine, Archer didn't look especially well. He nodded and choked out a single word. "Reed."

Her stern expression went positively nuclear as she swiveled her head around her shoulders and caught the eye of her own personal tormentor. Archer was putting the well-being of every hand on this vessel in the hands of a former mercenary, a mercenary who seemed to have some personal grudge against her. _This was going to be swell_, she thought scornfully. "Lieutenant?" she called.

Malcolm appeared at the foot of Archer's bed. The sheer number of the sick had taken him by surprise. He'd expected some symptoms, but the reality of those struggling to breathe was more than he had anticipated. It was more than respiratory distress. They were suffocating before his eyes. They were drowning on dry land, so to speak.

Archer struggled to speak. "Do it…Reed. Whatever…she…asks."

"What do you need, Doctor?" he asked despite his misgivings. He ignored the inner voice that continued to suggest that she might have something to do with this illness.

"Lieutenant, I'd like you to gather all available hands and begin purging the environmental circulators." She repeated her instructions as she gestured at all the people lying around the room. "If you can do that without waiting until morning to contact Starfleet Command and get confirmation from them, that would be great," she added sarcastically.

He stiffened. "I'll get right on it, Doctor," he glared back at her. She was a nasty piece of work; that was certain. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, get that MACO off my doorstep," she fumed. "If you feel it's really necessary to put a guard on my trail, that's your call, but I won't have him hovering over my shoulder in a contaminated ward." She glared at Chang. "Get out!" She didn't really have a problem with the MACO; he was just an unfortunate casualty in this ridiculous power play she seemed to having with Reed, who was proving to be such a supercilious ass!

Malcolm glanced at Archer with a raised eyebrow, waiting for his captain's approval before waving the sentry outside the double doors. Jon struggled to nod his head. "Is there anything _else_, Doctor?" Reed added sarcastically, fuming that his only informant would be too far away for any useful reports.

"Yeah, Sparky, I could use some coffee. Go fill my thermos!" She turned her back away from him and started perusing Tucker's medical file. "And see if your crack staff can't find one little Denobulan on this ship, huh?"

"Yes, sir!" Malcolm snapped off a crisp salute that did not convey respect so much as it conveyed sarcasm. "You be certain to keep me informed regarding any changes to the crew!" Again, he waited for Archer's confirming nod before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

The nerve of that _damned woman_, barking orders at him as though he was a servant! He fumed as he left the collection of the ailing and hit the button to call the turbo-lift. He had found her performance in Sickbay to be a surprise though. She seemed competent enough. Given the erratic nature of her personal information he wouldn't have been surprised if her medical degree had been a forgery as well, but she seemed to know what she was doing. Granting her expertise, even if only in private, was painful. The best way to get her out of his hair was to make sure the crew got better, and then she could be returned to her quarters for the remainder of the journey.

His relief at the thought of that woman being locked up far away from him was something that brightened his whole day.

* * *

Between the science officers and the med-techs, they managed to dose the long line of crewmen waiting in the corridor with a powerful antihistamine and sent them back to their own quarters to recuperate. Andie sent Ensign Black to the Mess Hall for a meal and then banished him to his own quarters for several hours, telling him he wouldn't be any help in sickbay if he fell face first into a cage of Klingon sea monkeys. Ian cracked a weak smile at her joke, knowing Phlox didn't keep Klingon creatures. He slipped gratefully out of the room.

The extra beds were tucked away and she was free to wander the room. Truax was sleeping deeply, still aided by an oxygen mask. Mazaro wheezed in his own bed. Archer coughed fitfully. Tucker and T'Pol were dead to the world. Andie sat down and studied T'Pol's charts. Something just didn't add up. Whatever was wrong with these people seemed to be affecting the computer too and that didn't make any sense. And the Vulcan didn't seem to have the same kind of symptoms. She was feverish and sweaty, but her respiration was even although it was unnaturally heavy. In fact, she gave off every impression of being in a deep sleep. But it was frustratingly difficult to diagnose the female, since most of the equipment in the medical lab was geared primarily toward human physiology. Somehow Phlox had learned to compensate, and Andie had to hand him credit for that. The missing Denobulan kept her mind wandering too. Phlox wasn't the type to just forget to show up for duty, even if he was ill. His absence was troubling.

Without the main computer to race through the medical databases of three different worlds, diagnosing the crew would take time. Andie glared at the stack of data recorder chips as though they were personally responsible. She set to the tedious work, brewing a beaker of thick coffee over a burner in the chemistry lab. Andie didn't really think Reed would take the time to send a steward her way, but she smiled grimly when she thought about how mad the request would have made him.

Several hours passed before she realized it. She peered myopically around the room, feeling the dull ache behind her eyes from staring at a computer screen. Nothing seemed out of place in the room; in fact the remaining patients were quite peaceful. Andie realized that everyone left in the ward had fallen asleep. The quiet was disquieting. She stood and studied Tucker's readouts on the main computer screen. His neural activity had slowed quite a bit. A knot grew in her stomach as she recognized the symptoms. Trip had slipped into a coma. After quickly checking the readouts of the others, she realized that all the patients left in Sickbay had succumbed to the same deep sleep.

She wandered over to have a closer look at Ensign Tim Mazaro. He was very young and didn't really look old enough to shave, let alone repair dangerous engineering equipment. The ensign wore an oxygen mask over his face to assist his labored respiration. The clear filter had acquired a dark shadow over the top of it, and when Andie lifted it from his face she noticed the same slimy dark substance that had slid out of Lt.Truax's throat. Andie took another sample of this material and headed for the diagnostic computer.

Ensign Black was correct; the computer was malfunctioning. The report stated that the material was Denobulan. Granted Phlox spent a lot of time here, but surely in a sterile environment he wouldn't have left genetic material all over ever single item in the room. Andie ran another test through the computer. Clearly it was Phlox that had left this substance behind.

Commander Tucker was next on her list. She used gloves and tweezers to slice open one of the pustules growing on his arms and remove one of the dark pods from just underneath the skin. Another analysis brought back some slightly different results. The material was not from a humanoid form. It contained an unusual enzyme, something that wasn't supposed to be there. It belonged to a plant. Well, a fungus really; what was it doing here?

The double doors swished open and Andie was happy to see Liz Cutler. The crew woman looked exhausted and was absently scratching her arms through the fabric of her uniform. She paused and her cornflower blue eyes clouded for a second as she looked around her without seeming to comprehend where she was or how she got there.

"Liz? Are you feeling all right?" Andie questioned gently.

The med-tech looked surprised to see the doctor. "I'm fine," she replied vaguely. "Have you seen Phlox?" Her voice sounded thick.

"Not recently," Andie answered, growing concerned with Liz's seeming disconnect from reality.

Liz shook her head. "I hoped he would have shown up by now," she replied.

There was nothing to do really but forge ahead. "Would you go to the greenhouse and take some readings for me?" Andie handed the younger woman a data pad containing the chemical element she'd just extracted from Tucker. "This is the compound I'm looking for. If you don't find it there, would you check the hydroponics bay too?"

"Sure," Liz replied listlessly, taking the pad. "What is it?"

"An anomaly," Andie grinned. "It's probably nothing, but I'd be happier knowing for sure."

"It's good that everyone's sleeping so peacefully, isn't it?" Liz looked around at the patients. "Where's Phlox?"

"If you could get started on that scan right away, that would be really helpful," Andie hinted. Mental confusion was not a good sign. It could indicate a more serious neural malfunction in the ailing. Unfortunately she couldn't afford to assign Cutler to bed rest.

"Sure." Liz nodded, lifting the curly hair off her neck and heaving a sigh. "Is it me or is the temperature rising in here?" She wandered out through the door and Andie could only hope that she would get the scans done right away. Reduced coordination and fatigue were warning signs that indicated a progression in most diseases that led to comas.

The young woman had a point though; it was warmer now than it had been earlier. When the doctor got out of the shower earlier, she'd pulled on a long sleeve tee shirt under her scrubs, but now she was regretting it. Andie got up from her chair and stretched her arms over her head as she wandered into Phlox's office to see if she could find something suitable to wear in there. She had quite a bit of luck. She discovered a tee shirt she'd been wearing sometime earlier. She had spilled coffee on it and tossed it aside to dry. She'd forgotten about it. It was a gift from a friend of hers who enjoyed telling her she was bossy. "_Unless I tell you otherwise, I'm always right" _was printed on a red background. She stood there for a long minute, trying to recall something that lingered on the edge of her memory.

Absently she wandered back into the main lab. Her head was beginning to throb with the impending headache that promised to be a doozy. It may be that she was coming down with the crew's illness, or it may be that her head was spinning around trying to remember something that seemed to hover just on the edge of her peripheral memory. _"Unless I tell you otherwise…"_ She shook her head at the elusive thought as she took her seat on a rolling stool in the medical ward, just as the double doors swished open to bring in a new group of patients.

* * *

Reed had high-tailed it out of Sickbay with a mission. He hadn't needed her directions to know what to do; he'd have come to the same conclusions! But Archer seemed to be giving her a great deal of authority in this matter, so Reed had no choice but to comply.

He didn't have to bring her coffee though.

As he rode the lift to the next level Reed became aware of his empty stomach. It was hours past lunch time. Of course he wasn't certain he wanted to eat anything on this ship until they could start ruling out the possibility of food contamination. With his customary stoicism, he willed his stomach to stop growling and headed for Main Engineering. He intended to have a few words with Lieutenant Kelby.

It was a good thing he stopped by; the young lieutenant hadn't even started on the internal sensor diagnostic Reed had requested earlier. The lecture about completing duties during a crisis situation took a little longer than Reed had intended. He blamed it on the headache that was threatening to break his skull with its insistent pounding. The headache was probably due to hunger. At least, that's what he told himself.

Malcolm crisply set Kelby straight and put him to work on the sensor diagnostic. He stopped by the Bridge to assure Mayweather that he'd not been forgotten. He found Mayweather and Moreno having a wonderful time swapping stories about memorable events that occurred while one or the other was in charge of their respective departments. One frown from Reed put a stop to that. Ensign Shannen had been offered the antihistamine and had managed to take the chair at the communication station although she still didn't look fully recovered. Ensign Caffrey had been pulled out of her bed to take the science station; she was covered in pink dots and occasionally hissed at the effort it took not to scratch them. It was good to see so many people on the Bridge. Reed could feel safe that the ship was in competent hands, although the tactical officer would have preferred a higher rank than ensign there in case of trouble. There was no help for it. The only rank above ensign that wasn't out on sick leave was Reed himself. Hess had not been out of her bed all morning.

Believing the Bridge to be in good enough hands, Reed set about calling up personnel to begin scrubbing the environmental filters. It was a filthy tiring job on the best of days, but not knowing what kind of pathogen might be flowing through the vents made the task more stimulating than usual. He called up Ensign Julien from the science department to oversee the progress, hoping that the scientists' background in bacteria would be useful in determining what substance was clogging the environmental filters.

Reed left those lucky few in charge and called up the MACO's, using the trained marine command to commence the detailed search of the ship for one missing Denobulan. Several hours later he was satisfied that they had looked in every single room, every single maintenance tunnel, and every single maintenance closet. They had been unable to find the physician, but three of the MACO's involved in the search had come down with the sneezing and coughing that signified the disease that was running amok. Two of them had been searching the ship near the power transfer conduits but the other had been combing the forward decks near the food stores. Reed sent them to Sickbay and then gave them leave to spend the afternoon in their quarters. After redirecting the remaining MACO's to concentrate their searches in those areas in bio-hazard suits, he headed for the Mess Hall, regretting that his loudly growling stomach gave him no alternative.

It was late afternoon, and the room was nearly empty. There were only a few selections left behind the small display windows. Malcolm pulled out a roast beef sandwich and a dish of potato salad, just as his communicator chirped. The doctor had sent him updates on the condition of the MACO's who'd just arrived and Shannen was transmitting those to his data pad for review. For someone who worked hard to defy authority, Andie was doing her best to keep him apprised. She also noted the comas and the strange enzyme in her short note. Reed was aggravated to remember her directive to bring her coffee as lifted his sandwich to his mouth and prepared to take a bite. The roast beef stared at him reproachfully. Clenching his jaw, he took a large bite anyway. He suspected that all the jaw clenching he'd done recently had given him a migraine headache, because the drums pounding in his head were going all out with the repetitive percussive force. He hoped the food would lessen its vindictive power.

Finishing his lunch, Reed placed his dirty plates in the bin for washing by the kitchen staff. His hand hesitated over the button that would open the doors. Common decency fought with his need to be forceful and unrelenting in the face of such corruption. He couldn't let that woman see a softer side of him. Even if she was working exceptionally hard to comply with his requests.

Unfortunately decency won. He blamed his mother for that. Exasperatedly, he pulled out a turkey sandwich and an orange from the bowl and prepared to make his way down to Sickbay to check on the progress that damned woman was making. He hoped it was better than his own.

* * *

Sickbay was quiet when he entered, a far cry from the chaos and confusion of earlier.

He noted that she'd kept the senior staff here; T'Pol, Tucker and Archer all rested under her watchful eye, as did Truax with her recently opened neck wound and the young man from engineering, who appeared to be the first person to acquire the disease, whatever it was. The privacy curtains were drawn around every bed, and even Phlox's pets were strangely quiet, all huddled under items in their cages as though hoping to find shelter in their bedding.

Andie sat beside the young engineer. She used one hand to touch the young man on the arm while scratching that orange monstrosity of her with the other. The cat purred loudly. She'd wrapped that damned thing up in a red cloth of some kind. Malcolm thought people who dressed their pets were suffering some sort of mental instability. And the way she was holding the hand of that boy was more than he wanted to see from someone in her position.

Reed placed the sandwich on the portable table next to her, clearing his throat loudly to announce his presence. She jumped slightly, turning to glare at him over her shoulder. Whatever rebuke she might have offered faded away when she noticed the plate of food. Rather than diving in to the meal, or even thanking the lieutenant, she eyed it as though it might be contaminated. It annoyed Reed; he didn't have to fetch her lunch, but she could offer a little gratitude. She was obviously too busy holding the hand of that boy_. What the hell was his name?_

"Lieutenant," she greeted him. "How's the hunt for Phlox progressing?" She tried not to inhale too deeply; the scent of the orange tempted her nostrils anyway. Napoleon started squirming and she let him slide out of the red shirt and land on the floor. He sauntered away with his tail in the air.

"Reed?" she queried again.

He hadn't answered. His attention was fixed on the young man in the bed with tubes sticking out of him. It was slightly irritating that he couldn't remember the name of the young man.

He blamed his memory loss on whatever was going around, as he snapped to attention. "We have been unable to locate Phlox," he told her quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping patients. "The ship's sensors are offline. We're getting readings on him everywhere. The engineering team is looking into the problem with the sensors while security searches everywhere, but progress has been slow. The crew keeps dropping like flies. We have managed to clear several ventilators. Ensign Julien delivered the substance that was removed to the lab, and the science department is working on it."

"They're not sleeping; they're comatose," she told him wearily. "They are secreting an enzyme normally found only in plants." She looked at the sandwich with longing. As a rule, she preferred not to eat food from people she didn't trust, but she was starving. She hadn't had anything to eat today, unless you counted untold cups of coffee brewed straight from the flasks in the lab. She pushed backward with her feet and sent her wheeled chair rolling across the main floor directly to the main bank of computer terminals in the center of the room and away from temptation.

_Mazaro!_ Reed thought suddenly; _that was the name of the young boy Andrea was checking on_. He roomed with that Bowman boy. Mazaro had lost some family in the Xindi attack, and Bowman had Admiral Bowman for a father, which couldn't have been easy. Andrea spent far too much time coddling both those boys. She should be focusing all her attention on the captain. Instead she was fooling around with that cat!

"I'm preparing to set a course for the Sol system," he told her. "Hopefully we'll live long enough to bring this disease before Starfleet Medical." He waited for signs that she was scared to return home, but he waited in vain. "We should be there in a little more than a week."

"Starfleet Medical is your best course?" she asked over her shoulder. "Aren't we closer to Vulcan space? They have a fine medical program there." Something was tickling the back of her mind; a memory she couldn't quite grasp. Whenever she tried to focus her attention on it, it slipped away like a wisp of smoke.

"I believe that if Captain Archer was awake, he would prefer the doctors on Earth," Malcolm responded in high-handed fashion. He was looking forward to seeing how she was received by the people back on Earth. Would they continue to shield her, knowing the truth about what she was? Could they do better than she with this disease run rampant?

"You haven't found Phlox?" she asked again, forgetting that she'd already asked this question, but Malcolm assumed from her grim tone that she was slighting him for his inability to complete his task. She fingered the red tee shirt she had not donned, before tossing it in a heap on the main table. One look over her shoulder noted Napoleon had crept up on the portable table and was sniffing the turkey sandwich with interest. Leon would eat anything that was under his nose.

Reed offered a short bark, a humorless laugh. "He's everywhere and nowhere!" He spread out his arms to encompass the ship.

That memory she'd been trying to find snapped into place. _"Unless I tell you otherwise…"_ She couldn't remember exactly what it was, but at least she could remember where she needed to look. Her seat swung around like a tiny cyclone as she pushed to her feet. Snatching the tee shirt from the table where she'd just dropped it, she opened her mouth to say something. The memory was so close!

"Doctor?" She looked like she'd frozen in place with her jaw open. Leon left feline saliva over the succulent meat.

"Stay here. I'll be right back!" Andie straightened and threw the balled up fabric at him. "Page me if anything beeps." She left the room in a hurry, not stopping as she scooped the sandwich off the tray, to the feline's outraged howl.

"Wait…here?" The lieutenant called after her, cringing when his voice was so loud in the hushed room. The doors swished shut behind her. He started to follow her out the door but stopped when he realized that he was the only person awake in the medical room. Where had all her med-techs gone? How long had she been down here by herself?

Malcolm stood there nonplussed. Six patients lay in their beds with their lives hanging in the balance and the only doctor anyone could find on board had just flown the coop.

Leaving Malcolm here. In Sickbay. Alone.

Frankly, he'd rather face down a herd of angry Klingons than worry about what to do if anything..._how did she put it?..._started to beep.

Tucker coughed in his sleep, the thick wet sound made Malcolm think his throat was closing up. He moved to his friends' bedside, but Trip wasn't awake. He was pale and sweaty and a tube in his throat was helping him breathe. Two bright spots of color marked the fever in his otherwise pale face, and despite his elevated temperature, he shivered. The pustules on his arm had hardened into dark angry shells. For a moment, Reed worried that this might be the moment when he ran out of positive thoughts to consider. It didn't seem right that Tucker would suffer the consequences of an incompetent physician. He caught his hands worrying the red fabric of her tee shirt into knots. Surprised to find it there, he shook it out for a closer look. "_Unless I tell you otherwise, I'm always right." _Was that some sort of joke?

The double doors behind Malcolm swished open and he ducked outside the curtain to find Ensign Bowman standing there. The young man also had bright spots of color on his cheeks, but seemed to be breathing fine.

"Bowman!" Reed called out, making the young man jump.

"Sir? Where's the doctor?" Henry stuttered.

"She stepped out for a moment," Malcolm covered smoothly. "Why don't you wait here for her? Page her over the com if anything…er…beeps." He left before the boy could protest. It was exactly the information that the doctor had provided and Malcolm barely felt the twinge of guilt as he skipped out of the ward and left the boy alone. Hospitals made him claustrophobic.

* * *

Considering the inner sensors useless, Reed took a guess as to the doctor's location, and was rewarded to find the woman in her quarters. She knelt on the floor, pulling items out of a storage container and flinging the unwanted things over her shoulder to join the rest of the stuff she'd already tossed there.

"Everywhere," she was muttering to herself. "Everywhere and nowhere and we can't find him." A shoe nearly collided with Reed's shin and he stepped out of the way.

"I'll say stuff is everywhere," he said. "You're making a mess." He dodged a ball of yarn and the knitting needle still stuck inside it. The gray cat lying on the bed looked up at him groggily; it didn't seem Jojo was going to chase after it. Reed picked up the shoe and the yarn and set them both on the bunk next to the cat.

Both her foot lockers were open and the contents were strewn around the room. She was making a lot of progress searching for whatever it was she was hunting. Shoving the cargo container aside, she turned her search elsewhere. "What if it's not wrong?" she continued to mutter. "What if it's right?" Reaching up on her tiptoes, she felt around on the top of the foot locker for some undisclosed item. She cursed fluently when the slender box slid away from her grasping fingers and crashed the floor, spilling the contents every which way, even allowing a few to tumble into the narrow crack between the desk and the wall.

Without wasting time the doctor dove under her desk on her hands and knees, huffing as she struggled to pull out the things that had fallen. She made a funny grunt when she stretched out flat and tried to pry something loose that had been pressed flat against the wall. Malcolm tried not to pay undue attention to her hind end as it waggled back and forth with her exertions. Eventually she pulled her head out of her desk and waved a thin book in the air triumphantly.

"Aha!" she crowed. She waved the item at her cat. Jojo didn't seem especially thrilled. Neither was Malcolm.

"Why are you leaving Sickbay in the middle of a crisis?" Malcolm wanted to know.

"I needed research material," she answered shortly, out of breath. Andie settled on the floor amidst a pile of books and clothes to flip through the small journal. Malcolm tried to stand behind her but he couldn't see what she was reading. He wound up sitting on her bunk and peering over her shoulder at the scratches on the page. It looked like a handwritten journal.

"That looks like gibberish," he commented as she sped through the pages, stopping only occasionally to glance at something that caught her eye.

"No, not gibberish," Andie muttered. "That's Latin." She pointed to something else. "Bits of French and Vulcan, too," she added absently, clearly finding what she sought and ignoring him to read the passage she'd discovered. "This is a bit of …Aha!" It was the second time she sounded triumphant. She held up the book so he could see the tiny scrawls that looked just like chicken scratches.

"Yes, of course," he answered dryly. "Clearly, we're saved."

Andie seemed to realize he had no idea what she was showing him. She scrambled to her feet. "I need to send out a communiqué," she told him, slipping past him with the book open in her hands. "Is Hoshi on the bridge?"

"Ensign Sato took to her bed about four hours ago," Reed reminded her, grabbing her arm to stop her. "You checked her into Sickbay."

"Oh," she blinked owlishly. "Right. Who's at the comm.?" She waited impatiently, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

"Shannen's at the comm.," he told her. "Why do you need to send a message?"

"I need to speak to a Denobulan doctor," she answered, as though it was obvious.

"Why?" he repeated. Clearly he wanted details.

"Have you ever heard of Trypanosomiasis?"

The brief pause gave him away. "Of course I have," he answered haughtily.

Andie rolled her eyes. "Also known as African sleeping sickness?" she prompted him.

"That's what has infected the crew?"

"Not unless we have a serious mosquito problem," she rolled her eyes again. "I'm not talking about African sleeping sickness exactly, but a similar disease known as Denobulan Sleeping Sickness. Some of the symptoms are the same; fever, blisters, coma and eventually death, if untreated. The data I have is outdated. I need more current information so I need to talk to a Denobulan doctor. We've been treating the sensor data as false, assuming the main computer is wrong, but what if it's not? What if it is Denobulan material that's making everyone sick?"

"You think Phlox did this?"

"No!" she protested vehemently.

"But you think he's involved?"

"If this is what I think it is, he may be involved. But I need more details. DSS is a disease that was thought to be wiped out. Think how surprised you'd be if the crew came down with scurvy!"

"With you as their doctor, I wouldn't be surprised," he snapped.

Andie's face hardened. For just a moment she'd forgotten he didn't like her. For just a moment, she'd been careless. They were not colleagues and he didn't like her. Her entire demeanor tensed.

Reed was a tad surprised at his behavior too. She was trying to help and he was taking pot shots. He didn't feel like himself when she was around. Dr. Andie made him uncomfortable.

"If I offered you a flashlight and a crowbar, do you think you might actually remove your head from your ass? I'm trying to save your crew!"

Reed fumed, angry at himself as well as her. "Did you worry so much about your crew when you were a pirate?" he demanded.

"I wasn't a pirate!" she denied hotly. "I was more of a smuggler." The last was added grudgingly. She didn't want to talk about this anymore. There wasn't any reason to. As soon as the crew was better, she was being sent home.

"What did you smuggle?" he couldn't imagine that he hadn't thought to ask her before.

Andie considered him for just a moment. He was tense and grumpy and he'd been antagonistic to her ever since she'd come on board. Did it matter if he knew? She was finished here anyway; Archer had confirmed that for her in his quarters and again in Sickbay.

"I smuggled humanoids…girls…from the Reef."

Malcolm Reed had never hit anyone without provocation in his life, but right at this moment he might make an exception. "I'll find your doctor," he hissed. "Remain in Sickbay."


	49. Chapter 49

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 49

* * *

Reed hit the button on the turbo-lift with such force; he thought he might have sprained a finger. Time had passed since he sent out the call for medical aid, and Enterprise had finally gotten a response via comlink from a medical research station. He had come to oversee the doctor in Sickbay so that she might confer with the responding Denobulan doctor in the peace of her medical ward where the transmission was secure. At least that's what he told himself. Frankly, he didn't want her wandering around the ship by herself. He was having trouble breathing he was still so angry. His chest heaved with the exertion of pulling air into his lungs. Absently he scratched his arm without realizing he did it.

She had all but admitted that she was responsible for enslaving millions of women in the brothel on the Reef, and he was certain she was responsible for the death of at least one woman on Earth. Malcolm wasn't convinced he could stand in the close confines of the doctor's office for the duration of the consultation. He was going to have to perform this distasteful task though. If she could save the crew, he had to play along. He'd make her pay later.

"_You're so sensitive, Malcolm."_

He could hear her gentle voice in his head. It was as familiar to him today as it had been the last time he heard it. Closing his eyes, he could almost believe he was standing back in that tiny apartment. It wasn't much bigger than this lift, he remembered fondly. Barely big enough for a bed and a desk, and with the shower down the hall, it wasn't plush accommodations, but it was off campus, which meant that she could stay over sometimes, long after curfew.

"_The boys were very naughty to tease you like that, but you're making too much of it."_ Eleanor Rose turned to him and the sun from the small window in that flat danced over her dark hair. _"Let's not be angry tonight."_ Her pink lips turned upwards in a shy, inviting smile. _"Let's be very happy tonight."_

"Let's stay in and be happy," Malcolm murmured out loud. He never heard the lift doors open.

If the sound of his own voice wasn't enough to jerk him out of his reverie, then the startled gasp of Crewman McGill was. Her pale cheeks flushed nearly as pink as Malcolm's. "You're going to stay in and be happy, sir?" she questioned.

"Never mind, Crewman," Malcolm hastened to add once he snapped out of his own shock. It had been a long time since he'd been caught talking to himself. "Just making a note to myself. Carry on," he added in a stern tone.

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged, walking away in rather a hurry. She was glad she didn't work under Lieutenant Reed's thumb; he could be scary. When he wasn't talking to himself, that is.

He pushed away from the wall and strode down the corridor. Nothing in the world seemed right anymore, and now his dreams were haunting his waking world.

* * *

Andie was in her own world. She was sitting at Truax's side, holding her hand in the same manner that she'd held Mazaro's earlier. She was whispering into the sleeping woman's ear in a voice that didn't intend for anyone else to hear.

"I wanted to apologize, Barbra. Earlier I made a joke about Reed's 'crack staff' which implied that the staff was inept. I had no intention of including you in that grouping. He makes me mad and I was trying to make him mad too. You probably didn't hear the insult, and you probably can't hear the apology, but I wanted to make it to you anyway. I may not get another chance." She paused slightly. "You're a good officer, Barbra. I just want you to remember that. You're one hell of a fighter. Keep that in mind."

So intent was she on her conversation that she hadn't heard the double doors swishing open. Becoming aware of someone standing nearby, she tilted her head up to look at the medical screen above Truax's bed. By leaning her head back and opening her eyes wide, she managed to dissipate the moisture that threatened to fall. She was tired; that was the most reasonable explanation for her unusual expression of weakness. Once she had herself under control she turned around.

Reed was watching her from a position close to the double doors. He was too far away to hear what she'd been saying to his second in command, but he could see that her expression held a hint of sadness.

"_She seems sweet."_

Reed caught the mirage out of the corner of his eye. "She's not. She's the devil," he hissed. For just a moment, he froze. He didn't know whether to be more upset that it didn't feel strange that he was speaking to the ghost of a dead woman or the fact that he was doing it right in front of the doctor that had been giving him so much trouble since she came aboard. Having Eleanor looking over his shoulder made sense to him at the moment. Having to rely on the expertise of a woman who may have been responsible for Eleanor's death to save his crew did not. He tugged the collar of his uniform impatiently. It was so hot in here; how could the doctor stand it? He witnessed the doctor study the monitors above the bio-bed. When she turned around the wisp of sadness he thought he'd detected had fled and she wore a cool and impersonal expression.

"How come you're not sick, Reed?" she inquired crossly without preamble. She didn't like being interrupted and was annoyed that he may have overheard her whispers to the patient. An insulated mug was never far from her fingertips and she sipped the lukewarm brew, feeling the overcooked liquid burn its way down her throat as she crossed to the main workstation, trying to look as professional as she was supposed to feel.

"Hoping for my imminent demise?" he sneered. He was tempted to throw a triumphant look over his shoulder at Eleanor, but remembered at the last moment that the other woman wasn't actually there. The fact that he knew the vision of his dead girlfriend was a manifestation of his underlying worry didn't bother him as much as the knowledge that he expected to turn around and find her watching him. The contradicting views were making him jumpy. And his nerves were making him too warm. He refrained from tugging at his collar again.

Andie's scowl deepened. "Actually I was just thinking that you're allergic to everything. Why aren't you catching whatever is so virulent?"

"I'm much too busy to get sick."

She snorted. "Remind me to get a blood sample from you. You might have an anti-body we can use."

"Over my dead body," he stiffened.

"However you like it, Sparky," she countered snottily.

Malcolm fought back another retort. This was no time to be arguing with her. "We're about to receive a transmission from your Denobulan doctor," he told her sternly. "I believe his name was Trajz."

"I'll collect my data and meet you on the Bridge."

"I've taken the liberty of having the comm. officer send the link down here." He tried to sound cool and level, but he wasn't certain he managed it. The illusory presence of his dead girlfriend was unnerving. He found he was still looking furtively around, trying to catch a peek of her.

"Of course you did," Andie sighed tiredly. Reed brought paranoia to a whole new level. He looked downright twitchy standing there, the way he kept looking around as if expecting to find some fresh new hell.

The information was neatly stacked next to the main computer. She couldn't help but think that Reed had once been a mercenary, yet it hadn't seemed to hurt his career. It was just Archer's dislike of her that had her leaving this post. _If Reed could make a go of it…._She knew the thought was futile. Archer had said as much. No matter what occurred now she couldn't stay. Idly the thought of where to go next drifted through her subconscious.

Rising gracefully from the wheeled stool, she stretched out a hand to retrieve the data disks that held the bulk of her research. At the main control panel, she flicked the button to display the friendly Denobulan face on the main monitor. After introductions were made, Andie and the new doctor chattered away while Reed watched. They spoke about things that made only a vague impression in Reed's mind: neural phases, parasitic funguses, sporozytic infiltrators and cellulose inhibitors. The words reminded him vaguely of war.

"_She seems sad."_

That damned phantasm hovered over his shoulder. Eleanor looked as she always looked, fresh-faced and sweet. She was still wearing the wool skirts and corduroy jackets she'd favored at university. She would never change. Not for the rest of his life. Malcolm brushed a nervous hand over his sweaty forehead. He was working too hard. The strain of being in command under such stressful circumstances was finally taking its toll.

"She's not." He found himself hissing at thin air, causing the doctor to turn and look at him in annoyance. Malcolm pulled at his collar; the air was thick and warm in Sickbay. It didn't occur to him to wonder if he was finally catching what everyone else had. If he had, it would certainly have offered an explanation for the ghostly presence that was haunting him, and that might have offered more relief than it should. Of course, it would also mean that he didn't have the anti-bodies that might save the crew, but he wasn't concerned with those questions at the moment.

"_She's the reason you're dead,"_ he told the girl inhabiting his mind. "_Her kind killed you." _He was still angry about her death. Even after all this time, even after gaining the knowledge that revenge was futile, he still wanted someone to pay for the crime that had changed his life.

"_Her kind? You mean doctors?" _Even in his head, Eleanor still teased him.

"_Slavers_," he finished, hating that woman more with every passing breath.

"_You think a woman who can't bear to lock up her cats is capable of selling women for profit?" _

Reed noted that orange cat had made a comfortable nest for himself at the foot of Mazaro's bed. The gray one was discovered way up high, having made a bed on the very top of the cabinet nearest the door. Even Porthos had been made comfortable on a pillow in the nook under a desk. The pooch didn't look so good.

"_People can be kind to pets that aren't kind to people,"_ he insisted. _"She's a menace."_

Inside his own head, Eleanor shook hers. "_You're not listening."_

"_She told me herself!"_ Now he was silently shouting at the word while his fists clenched in useless rage.

"_You only hear what you want to hear when you're upset," _Eleanor noted with exasperation. _"You've got to open your mind."_

"_I'm talking to a ghost!" _he hissed. "How much more open-minded can I get?"

Andie turned sharply and looked at him. Her gaze lingered on him a while, and Malcolm realized his last sentence had been out loud. His pale face flushed dark red. A word from the physician on the screen, Dr. Trajz, brought her back around again and she finished speaking with the Denobulan doctor in quiet tones, extending courtesy and gratitude as the other doctor signed off.

"The Denobulans are sending an medical envoy our way," she told Reed when she shut off the communiqué. "They should arrive here in thirty-six hours or so."

"Good," he grunted. "We'll just have to hold out until then." In his head he was already noting the shift changes, the repair schedules, the various other duties that would have to be looked after in the absence of the captain or the first officer. Reed's preparations for his departure from Sickbay were halted with her next sentence.

Andie studied him quietly. "Holding out is not an option," she told him gently. "Although Tucker's fever seems to have steadied in the last hour, his temperature is not going down. He can't remain this way without suffering some major physical disruptions. I don't know what's kept it at bay so far, but with a little luck, he'll continue to hold out against it."

"You're talking about brain damage," Malcolm repeated slowly. _As if you couldn't have guessed that one on your own,_ Eleanor taunted. He ignored her as his gaze involuntarily shifted to the fitfully sleeping man.

Rather than agreeing with him, Andie's eyes shifted furtively to the right, involuntarily bringing Reed's attention to the fact that they were not alone. In the furthest corner, lying on a make-shift bunk lay Ensign Nichols, from the science department. An IV hung from a slender pole and his flushed face told the tale of a critical fever that had brought him back here. At his side sat one old man with his shoulders hunched over.

"Is that Crewman Cooper?" Reed whispered, stepping closer to Andie so as not to be over heard.

Andie nodded. "He won't leave his side." She touched his arm and drew him further away from the old man and his lonely vigil.

"They hate each other!" Reed pointed out. "They've been getting into brawls for the last two months, ever since they came aboard!" The idea that two people with such passionate hatred could be so devoted seemed at odds with anything that resembled logic.

"They don't hate each other," she pointed out wryly. "Their relationship is complicated, that's all."

"Complicated?"

"Family usually is."

"Family?"

Andie stared in surprise, wondering if she let slip something that she shouldn't have. "Never mind," she waved away any further questions he might have about the pair in the corner. Her voice became brusque. "Look, we need more than pharmaceuticals. We need to find the source of the infection and get it under control. Otherwise we may lose some very good people here today."

"Phlox is still missing. I have a team still searching for him," Reed stated distantly, still watching the old man hover over the ill young male. He didn't normally care to engage in ship's gossip but he thought their story might be worth hearing. The doctor didn't seem very forthcoming however.

"We couldn't find Phlox because we thought the main computer was malfunctioning, but it's not. It's just a little confused," Andie went on briskly. She was tapping away at the console and diagrams were showing up on the screen above his head. "Denobulan Sleeping Sickness occurs when a Denobulan has been separated from the collective body for a long period of time, and is generally found in patients who have experienced something that interrupts their sleep cycles. Once the Denobulans pinpointed the cause, everybody took precautions to keep it at bay. They kept close company with others of their kind and maintained their health and hibernation cycles. There hasn't been a reported case in years."

"Yes, five hundred years. I was there," Malcolm answered tersely. "How did Phlox catch it?" His arms were folded over his chest, as much to look threatening in front of the doctor as it was to refrain from scratching the sudden itch on his forearm. How could she stand the heat in here? She was wearing a sweater for Pete's sake!

"He didn't catch it," she refuted. "Denobula is a crowded place. Twelve billion people occupy the same continent. Each individual emits a chemical every single time they exhale. Others breathe the chemical in, and inside their bodies, it mutates just a little. They exhale the new mix of chemicals and others breathe them in."

"So?" he was growing impatient and his pounding headache wasn't helping. It had subsided recently, but now it was back with a vengeance.

"You don't know anything about Denobulan bio-chemistry, do you?" she chided. "The blending of chemicals keeps their toxicology in check by forcing their bodies to create new anti-bodies all the time. Their bodies are always in a state of flux. Phlox has been away from Denobula Prime for a long time and his body has stagnated somewhat."

"He's only been on board for a little over three years," Malcolm pointed out. "And his wife came to visit him a couple years ago."

"If I recall, he worked on Earth before than, and with the Interspecies Medical Exchange before that. Records indicate that Mrs. Phlox didn't stay long and spent most of her time working, and last year, Phlox was under a great deal of stress. I believe that like most of the crew, Phlox may be suffering from a little Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's thrown his body chemistry out of whack." She swiveled around on her stool and started pointing to various pictures that were presented there. "If he's preparing for a sleep cycle, then his body might be susceptible to an imbalance of these chemicals. I've noticed some signs of fatigue."

"And the lack of sleep is contributing to his circumstances," Reed digested the information she was throwing at him, both in pictographic form and at a rapid fire burst of words. Biology had never been easy for him and he was trying to break the theory down into understandable snippets.

"So his body, thinking it's starving from lack of certain nutrients, is trying to replicate what it needs from the environment that surrounds it." Andie got up from her place at the main computer and headed for a series of cupboards on the far side of the room. "His body has sent out scouting enzymes to break down nutrients into usable components."

"He's trying to turn us into Denobulans." Malcolm followed her, looking anxiously at Trip as he passed by that bio-bed. Trip seemed to be in a deep sleep, but the red pustules were painful to look at. Some of them were seeping through their bandages.

"That is an acceptable understanding, if not totally accurate but I don't think he's aware of it. He's very close to his regular sleep cycle. In the days that lead up to the hibernation phase, he would be feeling sluggish and woozy anyway. He may not have realized the extremity of the symptoms until it was too late." She was digging deep in the cupboard before her.

"You mentioned a chemical in the stomach?" Reed was trying to keep all this straight in his head. It had never occurred to him that a trusted and valued member of the crew could become a danger to them.

"There's a fungus that resides in the stomach and helps digest and absorb nutrients. It absorbs extra nutrients in the days ahead of a hibernation cycle. Right now I'm guessing it's trying to absorb nutrients that aren't there and it's reproducing like mad thinking that it'll need to cover more ground to get what it needs. The chemical it's sending out thinks the host body is starving to death. It's trying to absorb nutrients anywhere it can get them."

"How does it expect to absorb nutrients from Commander Tucker and the others?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I need to study Phlox's body to make that determination."

"And the chemical he's emitting is the cause of the infection?"

"I think so, yes!" she sighed heavily. "We need to find Phlox and secure him in the Decon Chamber, where the isolated systems will keep him away from the humans until the Denobulan medical team can arrive." She was making a bit of a mess as she searched a second neatly ordered cabinet for the items she sought.

"But we can't find Phlox," he reminded her.

"Yes, we can," she corrected him, standing with a huff of air. She had several packages in her arms as she headed back toward the main computer and her diagrams. "I think between the beginning of the hibernation phase and the fact that his body was convinced it was starving and dying, Phlox got a little disoriented. I think he wandered around the ship, trying to find the proper place to bed down for six weeks. I think that's why Engineering and the command staff were hit hardest with this disease. He chose places with the greatest concentration of subjects and moved through them until he found what he needed. Survival is a very strong drive in every species."

"Infecting the crew as he went," Reed followed her back to the map of the ship. "He only sleeps for a couple of days though. The Denobulans will be here by then."

"No, he only sleeps a couple of days because this ship has only one physician, and he can't spend all his time napping," Andie corrected him impatiently. "His body needs a full sleep cycle. While he was wandering, he was producing tiny, submicroscopic spores, all of which gave off a miniscule bio-signature. When he lingered in one space, the spores congregated in large numbers, and the computer indicated that Phlox was wherever the greatest concentration of the microbes was. Given the recent decline in the appearance of first symptom illness in the crew, I think he's done all the wandering he can. I think he's bedded down somewhere."

"And the microbes are building up in one area only," Reed concluded. Her certainty about the conclusions she'd reached made him suspicious. "How do you know about all this anyway?"

Andie looked at him, startled by the question. "My father…I have one of his journals. He spent several months on a transport, getting to know the other passengers, including a researcher who happened to be Denobulan. They traded health secrets." Actually she'd sat right at her father's side while he chatted on for hours with the friendly alien. Reed didn't need to know that though.

"So this isn't _your_ research material at all," Reed smirked. It made him feel more secure that she wasn't making all this up; it came from a reputable source.

Instantly, she stiffened. "It's mine now," she tossed back indignantly.

"I do hope you'll remember to give your father a little credit when you write up your little paper," Reed continued. "If they allow you to publish papers from prison, that is."

"_Malcolm, don't be mean." _Eleanor had been quiet, but now she spoke up again. He jerked his head unwittingly in the direction of her specter.

The sudden switch from intense interest to obnoxious jerk threw her for a loop. "You're an ass!" Andie fumed. She started fumbling through the materials on her desk as a way to keep her hands busy. Otherwise, she feared she might use them. On him. In unpleasant ways. Of course, she was about to be kicked off this ship; it's not like worse things could happen to her if she did punch him once. Or maybe twice, she thought with personal glee. She pulled her sweater more tightly around her shoulders as though seeking protection from his verbal assault.

"_She's just trying to help!"_

"_I'm_ an ass?" he responded, pushing aside both his better judgment and his former better half. "You stole women from their homes and sent them to a life of forced prostitution, and _I'm_ an ass?" He was on a roll and failed to see the confusion and shock spread across her features at his accusation. "You think just because you can cure this plague that you'll be given the recognition you can't earn on your own? It's a pity Starfleet couldn't offer the post to a qualified doctor, instead of relying on nepotism and choosing one with her own personal library!"

Andie was stunned at the depth of his anger. _He thought she traded lives?_ Her nose had been buried in the book and she hadn't really been paying attention to the question he'd asked or the answer she'd given. Whatever she'd said, Reed really did believe that she'd been the one to select the prostitutes. The realization hit her in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. If people believed she was a slaver, and she had no reason to believe that Reed wouldn't tell anyone who he thought needed to know, then there really was no going back to Starfleet. Everything she'd worked for had been for nothing. She could almost hear Jase's voice in her head. _"You can wear their clothes but you'll never fit in."_ Maybe it was time to go someplace else. Clearly this life wasn't working out for her.

"Yes, it is a pity," she agreed with him. She simply decided not to argue with him anymore. It was obvious that he was prepared to believe the worst of her nothing she said was going to change his and that he wasn't interested in giving her opportunities to redeem herself. She didn't feel like trying to change his pig-headed mind anyway. It didn't really matter anymore. She'd been right to start scouring star charts earlier. It was clear she couldn't stay here much longer. Agreeing with him made him shut his mouth and allowed her to work more or less unimpeded.

Her sudden complacence threw Malcolm for a loop. He expected her to argue with him, and his need to express his frustrations about this entire situation by taking his aggressions out on an able opponent dried up when she refused to argue with him.

"What are you doing now?" Reed asked irritably as the woman continued tapping computer keys quickly.

"I'm going to find Phlox," she muttered, intent on her work.

Malcolm leaned down into Andie's stony face. "What makes you think I'm going to let you charge around this ship unescorted?"

"My dear boy, I never dreamed I would be unescorted," she answered sweetly. "If you're very lucky, I'll let _you_ be the one to come along with _me_."

"You think you can find him when an army of trained marines can't?" he questioned scornfully. He looked around for the guard he'd posted in here earlier, but couldn't find him anywhere.

"Do you see any trained marines around at the moment?" she scoffed. "Time's a'wastin'." The computer told her something and she raised a triumphant face to the tactical officer. "Aha!" she crowed. She stood and scooped up a data pad and a medical tri-corder, along with the packages she'd dug out of the supply cupboard.

Malcolm was tired of that exclamation. The item which she shoved into his arms along with a flashlight was a thin white uniform designed to combat hazardous materials. Much like the EV suits, it came complete with gloves, booties and a full head-dress in addition to a breathing filter.

Andie was already stepping into the loose fitting white pants and pulling the ankle straps tight.

"You know where he is," Malcolm finally got it, stepping into the white suit reluctantly.

"I know where he is," she confirmed. "How's your zero G?" Andie bent over to pick up a body bag from the morgue supplies, and missed seeing Reed's face pale at the question.

* * *

Phlox was dangling in zero gravity in what Travis Mayweather liked to call the 'sweet spot,' a location about halfway between the gravity generator and the bow plating. Travis was also known to cheerfully announce that being in the sweet spot was like being back in his mother's womb, a place Reed frequently doubted the young man could even remember, but for an alien suffering from a debilitating disease it was probably the most comfortable spot for a very long nap. It was quiet and warm and the walls vibrated slightly from the engines nearby.

Andie pushed off of the hatch and drifted upwards in her sealed suit with a practiced ease that Reed envied. Like a ballerina she drifted upwards to the creature they sought. Gritting his teeth and willing the contents of his stomach to remain where they were, Reed followed suit, losing control of his motion and drifting straight to the ceiling, where he collided into the barrier with a grunt.

The air around them was thick with particles that flew through the air, clinging to their suits and clogging the filters that allowed them to breathe. Phlox hung in the air like something out of Trip's movie collection of vampires, moored to the ceiling by a sticky build-up of the gooey gunk that seemed to seep out of every pore. The Denobulans arms were pinned to his chest and a thick string of the stuff hung like a streamer from his mouth. He looked like a giant bat. Were it not for his upside down position, the debris might simply collect in his throat and suffocate him, rather than draining out and swinging around the room where gravity had no serious effect.

Gathering his legs on what should be the ceiling, Reed stood awkwardly and tried not to think about the way his head was pointed at what should be the floor. He prayed that some miracle did not suddenly occur to bring the grav plating online in this little corner of the ship. Andie wasted no time acclimating to the weird perspective. Carefully she unrolled the black plastic body bag from its wrapping and indicated that Reed should grab hold of it and help her fold the alien inside.

"You're kidding!" he exclaimed. His voice was muffled in the thin helmet, but Andie heard his raised voice just fine, as indicated by the roll of her eyes. "He's not dead!" Malcolm protested. "Is he?" Phlox's skin had taken on a yellowish tint and glistened with the fluid that exuded from his skin.

"We can't carry him through the ship emitting these particles; he'd infect everyone!" Andie grumbled. "He'll live long enough inside the bag to be put in Decon. And then we can purge the enzyme on a ship wide basis. I'm recommending a triazine compound. It's frequently used as a fungicide."

Grimacing, Reed pulled the plastic around the hibernating doctor. Andie helped him secure the package in the front then bent down (up?) to cut Phlox's feet from their gooey bio-seal with a sharp scalpel. She tucked the gnarled toes inside the bag and began to fasten the opening, sealing the Denobulan inside.

"How are we going to get him down?" Malcolm shouted. He hated this suit and this weird perspective; it was like living in his own humidifier. The room was tilted at an awkward angle and sweat was dripping down the back of his neck. He tried not to remember the misery that was "The Vomitorium" from Starfleet training.

"You go first," she responded. "I'll need your help to get him through the hatch."

Reed stared up (down?) at the hatch below (above?) him.

"Just take a little jump, Reed." He could hear her smirking behind that damned filter.

Bending his knees, he pushed away from the ceiling and drifted toward the floor. About halfway down, he could feel his body moving just a little quicker as the lure of gravity beckoned him and he turned awkwardly. He landed on his knee with a grunt, and clambered clumsily through the hatch. That damned woman made the same movements look as easy as walking when she jumped off the ceiling, with her arms wrapped around the bagged body of the sleeping doctor. In the middle of the fall, she twisted her body and landed on her feet at the edge of the hatch, sliding the body of the doctor through the hole into Reed's waiting arms. The lieutenant had to assume her expertise came from all the dance experience she'd acquired when she worked as an "entertainer."

Inside the access hatch, Reed grunted as the doctor's body hit the gravity laden air and dropped rather heavily to the ground. Andie slipped into the tube and sealed the portal behind her. She unsealed the access door and the three of them maneuvered into the corridor beyond. Malcolm pushed the helmet of his hazmat suit off his head to dangle in the back as the two maneuvered the not inconsiderable weight of the doctor through the corridors to the isolated room. Andie kept hers on and raised an eyebrow at Malcolm every time they had to stop their exertions because he'd been overcome with a fit of coughing. He was soaked with perspiration from his exertions by the time they got the doctor secured inside the decontamination chamber.

Andie sealed herself into the chamber with the doctor, speaking to Reed through the comm. "If I were you, I'd get as many crewmen as you can to Engineering to clear the filters on all the vents. And drop the temperature in the ship; the cold with retard the growth."

"Surely you're not staying in there with him?" Malcolm panted as he breathed the relatively cleaner air in the corridor. "There are patients in Sickbay who need you!"

"I need to perform a closer study of Phlox," Andie pursed her lips. "And don't call me Shirley." She noted his look of confusion and brushed away the old joke. "I'll be fine. I'll be out in a few minutes. Go make yourself useful somewhere else."

He looked unconvinced but unless he was going to put himself at risk by stepping inside to drag her out by her hair, there wasn't much he could do to her. And unless he intended to pace uselessly back and forth in the corridor, there wasn't much he could do until she'd finished her diagnosis. Reed nearly growled with frustration as he spun on his heel and went to talk to the engineers.

* * *

"Stop! No! You're doing it wrong!" Kelby shouted above the working noises. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the temporary engineer with forced calm. Most of the people working on cleansing the filtration screens were not ordinarily scheduled to do such work, but with so many of the crew fallen ill, they had pitched in to assist the recovery. Kelby really enjoyed being at the top of the heap for once.

"Like this!" He demonstrated how he wanted the filters cleaned for the umpteenth time. "I want everyone to do it like this!"

Crewman Moreno rolled his bald head around on his aching neck. "If Reed doesn't throw him out an airlock, I just might do it myself," he muttered quietly. He'd been pulled off Bridge duty for this.

Next to him, Rostov snorted quietly through the thickness in his throat. "You have no idea," he muttered back. "You only have to work with him a little bit. I see him often." He took a moment to sniff and snort the phlegm collecting in his throat, wishing he could hawk a good old-fashioned loogie to clear his nasal passages. Commander Tucker would have his skin decorating the hull if he sullied the deck of Engineering with bio-fluids. However, they were stuck with the officious lieutenant.

Both men were spared the remainder of Kelby's lecture when the double doors opened and Reed strode in. "How is the work progressing?" he asked briskly. He'd just come from the Bridge and before that Environmental Control. His arms and back itched something fierce, but he refused to scratch at them when people were looking. Unfortunately for the engineering team, the effort it was costing him not to scratch took all his strength. He didn't have any left for kind, caring conversation.

"I'm almost convinced they should be allowed to start working," Kelby informed the lieutenant with satisfaction.

"Start working?" Reed was suddenly icy cool. "They are about to _start_ working? People are falling down and dying all over the ship, and you are using this time to conduct a _seminar_?"

"I don't want anybody to inflict anymore damage on the ship than has already been done," Kelby protested. "These people haven't been authorized to perform these particular repairs as outlined by the Starfleet Corps of Engineers Standard Operations Manual."

"At the moment lack of action would be more detrimental than anything any one of these crewmen could do," Reed told him in no uncertain terms. "Divide them into pairs; include one engineer with each group. Send them to the various filtration junctions and set them to start working _immediately_, Lieutenant Kelby."

Kelby started to protest. "But, Lieutenant, they must have adequate training!" _Nobody ever commanded the Commander like that when he worked! _Kelby thought peevishly.

"_Now_, Kelby!" Reed insisted with a bark.

"They are not ready!" Kelby insisted. "I keep telling them to move the wipers in a forward circle motion, and some are working it in a backward circle motion!"

"What's the difference? When lives are on the line, does the direction really matter? " Reed queried. His voice had dropped quietly and he stood very straight right under the engineer's nose in a threatening pose. From out of the corner of his eye, he noted his ghostly Eleanor looking at him triumphantly.

"It matters a great deal!" Kelby insisted, although seeing the armory officer get all worked up may have sucked some of the fervor from his determination. Lieutenant Reed could be very scary when he was perturbed. "Directionality is important!" Kelby tried to remain implacable, but found himself stepping backward at the ferocity of the Englishman's glare.

It hit Reed like a Klingon fist to the stomach. "She said _out_." He leaned backward from his confrontation with the other man in surprise that he could have missed it.

"Excuse me?" Kelby asked, startled. The tactical officer wasn't making sense.

"Get to work, Kelby," Reed barked again. "Start now or else I'll have you removed from your post and thrown in the brig! Rostov will be more than happy to carry on in your stead!" He turned and left the room.

Rostov smirked at Moreno even as the officious lieutenant shouted that Rostov didn't have the rank to take command. His protests were useless; he was talking to Reed's back.

Outside in the hall, he leaned against the wall and remembered what his mind had been trying to tell him all day. She smuggled girls _out_ of the Reef. Those were her exact words. His hand had crept up to his forearm and he scratched idly. She didn't take them into the Reef; she took them _out._ He was positive that's what she'd said. But if he had the wrong idea, why didn't she correct him?

"_You're not listening." _Eleanor frowned at him from the other side of the hallway.

The ghost had been right about that. He was so convinced that he knew what Andie was going to say that he didn't wait to process the words that actually came out of her mouth. Ever since she'd come on board, she'd rubbed him the wrong way and he'd been letting his imagination run away with him. The inability to extract the appropriate punishments for those who deserved them had been eating at him. They hadn't actually annihilated the Xindi; they'd made an alliance. They hadn't found justice on the Vulcan world; they'd just managed to bring about a religious renaissance. And more recently, they hadn't sent Emory Erickson home in chains for killing Burrows; they'd sent him home to retire. Malcolm was looking for someone to punish, and obviously he'd chosen the new doctor.

Out. She smuggled girls _out_ of Eckta's Reef. That didn't jibe at all with the picture in his head of a woman bent on making a buck as a pirate.

Out. Not in.

Two little words, but such a world of difference.

Sparing girls from a life as prostitutes and sending them away sounded like an expensive venture. There were bribes to the madam for one thing. There were bribes to the guards, and to the captains of freighters that were willing to take on unregistered guests. There was the ever-present danger of being discovered and punished for her actions by the local authority. Andie Brainerd left Earth to become a freedom fighter for prostitutes under the thumb...er, tentacle of an octopodal money-grubber. She took a job in a pirate bar in order to smuggle females out of the prostitution ring. Of course, she consorted with pirates! They were the most likely means of transport off and on the Reef. No wonder she knew how to handle herself in a fight, or knew the Klingon language or any number of other oddities that had come up over time! She had been fighting a battle for the greater good!

In a single instant, his entire view of her had turned from sinner to saint. She risked life and limb to rescue those in need. She'd succeeded where he failed. She'd helped the young women who needed it most.

And he'd been a gigantic ass.

He was surprised that she hadn't actually planted a foot up his backside. "I would have," he muttered. To his eternal discontent, Crewman McGill gasped nearby. He wasn't certain how long he'd been leaning against the wall, lost in thought but it was the second time today that McGill had caught him talking to himself. He nodded curtly and stood up straighter as she passed him. McGill was happy to see him leave without further conversation.

There were any number of things that needed to be done right away, but one took precedence over the lot. Malcolm had to go talk to the doctor. He needed to speak to Andrea.


	50. Chapter 50

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 50

* * *

After psyching himself up for the confrontation, Malcolm Reed couldn't find the doctor anywhere. A quick check of the chronometer indicated that he had spent more time than he realized in reflection outside of Main Engineering. He was amazed that McGill had been the only person to pass him by in the corridor. At least he hoped she was the only one. It didn't matter now; he couldn't find the doctor anywhere.

She appeared to have finished her study of Phlox because she wasn't in Decon. She wasn't hovering over any of the sleeping bodies or making herself at home in Phlox's office. Chang, the MACO Reed left to watch over her, had slid to the floor in the corridor and appeared to have nodded off, so there was no hope that he'd seen something. The woman seemed to have vanished. Malcolm tried not to jump to anymore conclusions. In the middle of an epidemic, there was any number of reasons why the only functioning doctor would disappear without a trace from Sickbay. Perhaps she was in the bathroom.

Reed found himself sitting once again beside the bed of his friend. Trip was flushed with fever and only continued breathing by the grace of the machines beside his bed. He'd been in exactly this position just last week when a silicon based virus had infected him on a routine scouting mission. He'd recovered from certain death in a miraculous instant then. Perhaps he could do so once again right now.

"I need to talk to you," Reed whispered. Crewman Cooper had gone back to his duties and Ensign Nichol slept peacefully, as did all the other occupants of the room, but Reed still whispered. "You need to wake up. If you wake up by yourself before she comes up with some cure, then I won't have to apologize to her and tell her what an idiot I've been. I'm sure she'll want more information than I've given her regarding why I'm such an idiot, and frankly, that's not really a conversation I want to have with her, so spare me the trouble and wake up on your own." He watched Trip lie still and tried to ignore the knot forming in his belly. "Just wake up."

* * *

Trip stepped out of the cabin and stared at the redwood forest around him, breathing in the fresh air with relief. After spending all that time cooped up on a ship with recycled air, this was damn near heaven! He sucked in the smell of pine with relish.

_(There was pine, wasn't there?)_

Again the nagging discomfort that had been niggling in the back of his mind for a couple of days tried to worm its way to the foreground of his consciousness, and again he pushed it away when the gentle breeze blew through the clearing. It was going to be chilly tonight. He was going to need some fresh firewood. The worn axe rested just where he'd left it, gouged into the flat surface of a fallen tree that served as a work bench here in the great outdoors.

_(He was outdoors, wasn't he?)_

The handmade blue cotton work shirt stretched across his shoulders and the suspenders that kept his pants up tugged at his neck as he bent over to pick up the heavy…

_(It was heavy, wasn't it?)_

…axe from its resting point. He settled a piece of wood on its flat surface, raised the blade and dropped it right into the center, splitting it neatly into a perfect log. From this angle he could see the cabin in which he was staying. The two-story A-framed house wasn't huge, but it was snug. The downstairs was a wide-open room, nearly filled with one long picnic-style table and a stone fireplace. A ladder led to the loft upstairs, which was really just one room that served as a bedroom. He really enjoyed staying here.

_(There was no bathroom. How could he live without a bathroom? Who had lent him the house? Why did it look so familiar? It wasn't anyplace he'd ever been before, right?)_

"It will be quite chilly tonight," spoke a familiar husky voice. "You will need to prepare more firewood."

Sitting on the porch of the A-frame cabin was a woman in a gingham dress, complete with cotton bonnet. He couldn't see her face from this angle because her head was bent over her sewing, but he knew the voice was familiar. He just couldn't place it at the moment.

His concerns faded away. The bathroom didn't matter. The rental didn't matter. Trip Tucker was on vacation. He had access to a nice house, he had some nice company and he was feeling pretty good.

The breeze kicked up again. It was less gentle than before and blew the smell of something awful his way. Trip coughed on the scent. It was like vile and rich, like standing water turned green by algae and rot. His cough turned into a series of coughs, until he couldn't catch his breath. He meant to tell somebody something. Had he done that before he left Engineering? His body was on fire.

"Perhaps the interior of the barn will offer some relief." The woman indicated the large building Trip didn't remember noticing with a nod of her head. "You may wish to feed and water the livestock."

"Nope, fed 'em this mornin'," Trip grinned. "S'pose their stalls might need muckin' out. What d'ya think, Half-pint? Want to keep me comp'ny?"

The woman hesitated. "I will keep you company," she agreed hesitantly. Behind the veil of her bonnet, she wrinkled her nose. He persisted in calling her 'half-pint' which was a moniker she could not understand. She supposed it did not matter as long as the engineer remained content.

Trip knew she didn't like the barn, but he couldn't think why at the moment. She always wrinkled her nose inside, but all he could smell was earth and hay and the old cow. Although he couldn't see the woman's face, a feeling washed over him when he took her hand as they walked to the barn. He knew that everything was right within his world. It was shaping up to be an excellent vacation. If only it weren't for that foul wind.

* * *

The double doors swung open and Andie wandered in, looking as though she lacked a care in the world. She carried a sandwich in one hand that looked as though it contained most of the contents of one of the refrigeration units tucked into what looked like an entire sourdough loaf. It was a wonder she could get her mouth around it. A fresh thermos was tucked into one deep pocket of her blue fleece pants and the gray cat lay without moving in the crook of her other arm. Leon raised his head from Mazaro's bio-bed, but dropped it onto his paws when he recognized the newcomers. His yellow eyes remained wide open as though concerned about what he was seeing.

Reed left Trip's side and went to meet her. He noticed that her hair was wet; the droplets of water ran down her neck from the firm knot it formed, kept in place by two long sticks at the back of her head. "Damn fibers got in my eyes," she muttered, peering at him myopically. "It seems to seep in through the filter after a while. I rinsed off in my quarters after a decon shower. I was starving. It's terrible to try and work with a monster hangover."

"Do you have a report?" he asked, eyeing both the sandwich and feline with stern disapproval.

Andie gnawed off another mouthful of food and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "There's a digestive enzyme in the Denobulan stomach pouch that retains the nutrients like a storage tank for use during hibernation. One of the chemicals tells the body to store up nutrients and another chemical tells the body to break down the stored nutrients. When a Denobulan is removed from Denobulan society, and when he chooses to forgo the usual hibernation cycle for a period of time, his body starts to notice the lack of balancing chemicals. It starts to devise ways to keep its own internal balance by creating the enzyme it needs. Phlox's stomach produced a fungus that seems to have germinated and sent out tiny spores into the atmosphere. The spores attached to any other warm, living cell, and started trying to regenerate. They're trying to alter their current hosts' chemistry in order to produce the enzymes the Denobulan host needs." She set down her sandwich long enough to put the cat inside one of the pet containers that were kept in Sickbay.

His head was spinning as he tried to put it all together. "What does that mean?"

She shrugged. "All those pustules on their arms are the spores trying to dig inside the human bodies to allow further fungal reproduction. When the spores blossom the ship will be filled with human spores that drift around and land on other bodies and dig in. The patients are falling into comas because of the initial burst of poison that's dispersed when the spores land, meant to make the new host more amenable to the changes, in addition to the intense physical process of fighting off what their bodies perceive to be an allergic reaction to the allergen."

"Can you stop it?" he wanted to know.

"They are growing a plant inside their skin, Reed," she answered tiredly. "There's no established cure, but I can offer a suggestion. You're not going to like it," she warned him. After watching his face for a moment, she went on. "I recommend a combination of Triazine sulfate to kill the fungus and a round of anti-biotics."

"Triazine sulfate? Didn't you say that was a fungicide?"

"It's one of the chemicals found in pesticides," she agreed hesitantly. "It's been used most often in the fields--"

"You want to poison them!" He forgot his earlier vow to speak to her with courtesy and cut off her sentence.

"To make them better!" she countered. "It'll make them sicker for a while, but then they should get better."

"Should?" Malcolm jumped on that word expeditiously.

"We're talking about an alien disease that nobody's heard of in years. This is all guesswork, but it's a good guess!"

"You can't be serious!"

"You've got a better idea?"

"Yes! We wait for the Denobulans to handle the situation! Their medical team should be here in a few hours."

"Thirty-three hours," Andie told him with a deep sigh. His hatred of her was going to make this difficult. "They aren't here now and time is of the essence! They longer the crew remains in their coma, the harder it will be to bring them out of it. Their continued drop in neural activity will begin--"

Malcolm cut her off again. "If you poison them, they won't be coming out of it at all!" Panic was beginning to worm its way through his stomach. The chemical she was talking about was a dangerous substance. It might kill off the fungus, but she seemed to be deliberately avoiding discussion of the repercussions it might have on the crew.

"It's a calculated risk!" Andie suddenly stopped shouting. She fondled Leon and picked him up. He didn't protest; just lolled over her arm as though he were boneless.

"It's not one I'm willing to take!" Reed countered.

"No, it's not one you're willing to let _me_ take,' she corrected him bitterly. "You've got to trust me. I have a medical degree. I've spent time among Denobulans. Starfleet Command has recommended me for this position. You've got to let me do my job." She felt wrung out and quite certain he wasn't going to be easy to convince.

"I can't," he told her. "You've been less than truthful with me from the start. You can't possibly expect me to allow you to try this!"

"I had no choice," she sighed heavily. She faltered for a minute. Her concentration was slipping away. It was getting harder to follow all the words that Reed was speaking.

"We're going to wait," he told her. Suddenly he was tired, exhausted really. "I'll transmit the information you've retrieved from Phlox to the oncoming ship. We can only hope that they'll have a cure by the time they arrive."

"There's nothing more I can do then." She studied him darkly. "I hope you can live with yourself if any single one of them dies." Andie dropped the other cat in the second pet container and headed for Phlox's office clutching her sandwich.

* * *

"_You were going to talk to her! You were going to listen!" _

Eleanor was back, he noted with frustration.

Malcolm stood at the foot of Trip's bed and watched his friend doze fretfully. There really weren't any better options at the moment. She was a freedom fighter, not a slaver. She was a credited medical doctor, placed aboard by Starfleet Command. And the crew was slipping away with every passing minute. His grasp of medical procedures was limited; he had to rely on her expertise. Idly he thumbed through the pad that contained the succinct report that Dr. Brainerd had provided for the approaching cavalry. Some of the finer points seemed to be lost on him, but the data she'd compiled seemed to be accurate. The research she'd done on the triazine compound showed exactly what she'd said; the medicine probably wouldn't be fatal in more than a third of a percent. There really wasn't any reason for him to believe that she had anything but the best intentions for the crew.

Sadly there were plenty of reasons for him to wonder if any of the crew might die while under his brief and unexpected command. Would he lose more than a third of a percent of the crew if he waited?

The inability to take action was slowly driving him bonkers. He couldn't plan. He couldn't outwit. He couldn't take on the virus in hand to hand combat. With a heavy sigh, he turned around and perused the room. One computer screen in the corner was still activated. Seeking reassurance in more data, Reed stepped over and sat on the wheeled stool for a closer look.

Somebody was making travel plans.

At least three different planetary bodies were presented on the screen before him. None were familiar to him. Two were standard Class M planets; the third was Class O and nearly filled with water. All three could sustain humanoid life. All three were temperate. One was very far away, farther than the _Enterprise_ had traveled in her first year. The pelagic planet with its myriad beaches didn't seem terribly far away. Lieutenant Reed considered the data. Was she researching planets where a cure might be found? Or was she preparing for a vacation. _Or preparing to flee_, his inner voice whispered cruelly. He couldn't help but wonder if his intense antagonism toward the woman had convinced her to leave the ship. Reed didn't like the feeling that he might have driven her away. The realization that he'd condemned her as a slaver out of turn had sucked all the viciousness out of his curiosity.

He still needed to talk to her about his misinterpretation of her former occupation as a freedom fighter, but he didn't think she would talk to him after his most recent and reprehensible behavior. Captain Archer told him to follow her directives when it came to the application of medicine and the treatment of this illness. Perhaps he might find some way to bridge the gap between them so that they might find some way to continue working together for the duration of her stay on board.

Malcolm got up and prepared to enter the physician's private office. The world swayed around him as though he'd been drinking heavily and he was forced to grab the desk in front of him to keep upright. For a quick second he sat down on the stool. He was absolutely swimming in perspiration and thought he might lose the contents of a lunch he'd eaten hours ago. He was presenting symptoms. There was no more time to lose. He got up again, slower this time. He went to talk to Andie.

* * *

"Out."

"Piss off!" Andie grunted from behind the desk. "This is my room. _You_ get out."

She sounded irritated.

"Actually this is Phlox's room. He hasn't been removed as Chief Medical Officer yet." At her furious glare, he hurried to say what he'd intended in the first place. "You said you smuggled girls _out_ of Eckta's Reef."

"Must have misspoke," she answered mulishly. Her heels were kicked up on the corner of the Denobulan's desk and she looked quite stubbornly ensconced there. "You know how we humanoid traffickers like to lie about stuff."

"You smuggled girls' out of Eckta's Reef," he insisted again. "You were a hero setting those women free at great personal risk to yourself." The more times he said it out loud, the greater the chance that he might believe them. "Why would you allow me to think otherwise?"

"Why are you so quick to assume the worst?" she countered.

"I have reason to assume the worst of you!"

"Really? What have I done to you? You're the one who's been digging up dirt on me ever since I came aboard. What was your first indication that I'm a bad person?" Her temper had grown short and she was snapping at him.

_It had just been a date; just a missing birth date_, he remembered. "You don't follow the rules," he pointed out.

"By digging into my classified files over the specific prohibition of an admiral, neither do you!" She pointed out something he should have known.

"I don't put anyone else's life at risk!"

"Really? All those messages back and forth through space? You don't think someone might have intercepted those transmissions which would lead them to Earth and this ship? Didn't you ever think that's how Jase found me here, when he thought I'd been dead for ten years?" It was unfair to lay that at Malcolm's feet, but Andie felt awful and didn't want to keep running away from Reed for the rest of her short tenure here. It was a relief to start pointing a finger in his direction for any reason at all.

"It would never have been a problem if you were an upstanding citizen!" Had he been the reason the pirates came aboard his own ship? Once before he'd let zeal get in the way of a mission and lives had been lost and the trail had gone cold. Had he done it again?

"No," she agreed. "I'm not an upstanding citizen. Is there anything else you need now that we've cleared up that particularly shocking piece of information?" Her voice was dry and brittle and her sandwich was beginning to make her stomach roll uncomfortably.

"Yes, there is." He took a moment to wonder if he was suffering from some serious brain damage. "You'll need a test subject for your triazine therapy. I volunteer."

"You know it's a poison, right?" She eyed him cynically.

"You know you're a doctor, right?" he countered in what he hoped was a similar tone.

"You haven't come to me with any symptoms," she pointed out. "I can't test a medicine on you unless you're ill."

"You're going to have to test it on me before I'll let you treat anyone else on this ship," he told her. He pulled up his sleeve and showed her the dark pink marks on his arm that indicated the beginning of the spore-growth.

They eyed each other across Phlox's desk. Andie dropped her heels off the desk and frowned, even as she whipped out a medical tri-corder and took readings of his current physical condition. He hadn't come to her for treatment even though he was ill. Sure, he didn't like her, but she should have tried harder, should have given him reason to believe that she could help him. Now that she was looking at him, she noticed that he appeared flushed and clammy. She had mentioned getting a blood sample from him earlier, but she'd not gotten around to it yet. If she had, she might have known about this.

"If it kills you, you won't have the pleasure of seeing me court-martialed," she pointed out, trying to keep the self-doubt out of her voice.

"But I will have the luxury of eternity from which to haunt you," he retorted. "Although you won't actually be court-martialed since you're not technically a member of Starfleet, merely a private physician working under special contract. It's more likely that you'd suffer consequences…Never mind," he finished when he noticed her glaring at him again.

"Take off your pants and follow me," she directed, rising from her seat and heading back into the main medical ward.

"How many men have fallen victim to your charms and your poetic verse?" he smirked as he followed. His hands shook. Was it from illness or worry? Did it matter?

_Was he actually teasing her?_ Andie thought Reed might be suffering from some sort of brain damage. More than the mental deficiency he always seemed to exude around her at any rate. She didn't say anything, thinking it might be wise to hold her tongue until after he gave her permission to try her new medicine. She threw a pair of gray medical pajamas at him instead.

He caught the clothes against his chest. Becoming a test patient for a new drug is not something he counted on when he got up this morning. Actually the last time he'd been to bed had been yesterday, or possibly the day before that. The hours were beginning to blend together. He stepped into one of the side rooms and drew the curtain, making quick work of his uniform. He stepped back into the lab, feeling the chill of the floor on his bare feet.

"Lie down here. I need to get you into the imaging chamber." She tapped a few more keys on the computer. "I'm going to need a full chemical workup. We should be able to begin the medical tests in a few hours."

All of a sudden he was nervous. "Have you ever killed a patient in this manner?" he asked, eyeing the sliding bed with distaste.

"Never on accident," Andie answered in a deadpan tone, looking at him with one raised eyebrow.

"That makes me feel so much better," he muttered, carefully climbing onto the bed. One quick glance at the ephemeral Eleanor and he paused. "I'm putting my life in your hands," he warned the doctor, seeing his dead girlfriend over her shoulder.

"I know," she smirked. "I'll do my best not to remember that you're an unmitigated ass while you're under my knife, so to speak."

"You were a hero for all those people you set free on the Reef. I think you're going to prove that you can be one now." If he just kept repeating it, it might feel like truth.

That quiet reminder made her twitchy. Andie frowned at him dubiously as he lay back on the bed. "Reed?"

He paused.

"I think you've got the wrong idea about me," she said. "I'm not that great."

"You didn't rescue ladies from the Reef?"

"It's not what you think," she told him, staring squarely at her feet. "There was no heroism involved."

"You're a hero to everyone who survived," he pointed out.

"Would you still say that if I disappeared while you're out of commission? The Denobulans are on their way; they'll be here soon. I know you probably won't die, no matter what. It would only take me a few minutes to delete my presence from the ship. That's what I was doing before, when you said you couldn't locate me. I was erasing my memory from this ship: security codes, medical file, personal logs. For just a second, I was already gone. I can do it again. It'll only take me ten minutes to pack a bag. I can be in a shuttle and out of range in about twenty minutes, and you'd never see me again." She was babbling.

"Why are you telling me this now?" he asked, wondering what game she was playing now, even as he remembered the three planets still called up on the computer screen in the corner. She had been planning to run and leave them all here. And he was about to put himself in a position where he couldn't follow her. This was the dumbest plan he'd ever had. The growing heaviness in his chest made him remember than he didn't have much choice in his plan at the moment. He might die with or without her.

"You're about to take a step that'll put you out of commission and you won't be coming out for a while, even if my medication does work, and that's still a great big 'if', by the way, and I thought that you should know what you're leaving behind. I'm not what you think I am. Archer's having me removed from the ship," she added in a rush. "He doesn't think I'm reliable enough to remain on board. That may influence your decision."

Malcolm pondered that idea for a moment. "The fact that you're telling me this now indicates that you might actually be reliable in these matters," he pointed out. "You could have just waited until I was already inside."

"I think people ought to know what they're getting into," she responded curtly. "Even if it is stupid and dangerous."

Malcolm watched her face carefully. The skin around her mouth was drawn taut. He decided that she wasn't belligerent, as much as she was scared. That settled his mind. A doctor who was worried about the condition of someone she doesn't like wasn't the type to let the rest of the crew die just for a quick getaway. "I think I'm putting my life into very capable hands," he lied her, studying her reaction intensely and wishing he believed his own words. "I think you'll keep us all alive until the cavalry gets here. You'll be here when I get out."

Reed tried not to panic. He involuntarily clutched the edge of the bed as it slipped noiselessly inside the cylindrical chamber. Inside the hiss of the lock and the pressurization that occurred when the seal was activated started up without a hitch. Already he hated this; imaging chambers made him nervous. He couldn't see anything or hear anything. The machined rumbled and thumped on the inside. Lights flashed around him. "I should have brought a book," he mumbled. The world closed in around him and he was certain he couldn't breathe. Maybe she had forgotten to turn the oxygen on. Maybe he was suffocating. He clawed at his chest and tried to refrain from kicking the door down and climbing out.

Outside the chamber, the full weight and burden of ninety-four lives pressed down on Andie's aching shoulders, but this one life was the heaviest. She pushed aside her own feelings, as she learned to do in countless other life-determining situations and focused on the problem at hand. Concentration was difficult. Andie shivered and wrapped her arms around her fleece-wrapped body. She'd pulled on exercise clothes instead of her usual scrubs, feeling the chill in the air of the lowered environmental controls.

"Take deep breaths," she told Reed. "Don't hold back. I'll be back in half an hour. Press the emergency button if you need anything." She studied him, trying hard not to look like she was worried. "In a little while you won't be worried about a book. How about some music instead? You prefer piano or violins?"

"_Don't worry_," Eleanor whispered beside him, slipping a hand into his_. "I've got you." _She was cradled against his side; he could almost imagine he could feel the heat of her body.

"I know you do. You're never far from me." He said this out loud, feeling cut off from everything else at the moment.

Their conversation was monitored from outside the chamber. Well, half of it was. Andie watched on the visual monitor as Reed proceeded to have a long conversation with someone who wasn't there. Computer read-outs confirmed that in the enclosed space of the imaging chamber, the toxins in his body were building up in the air around him with alarming speed. He was getting much worse much faster in there. She had to start calculating whether the information was worth the possibility that he might suffer more for it.

"Violins are morbid," Reed told her with a shudder. His vision swirled around him and gritted his teeth as he tried to lie still. "I think this is the worst idea I've ever had," he muttered, feeling his body tremble sickeningly.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you've made worse ones," Andie forced a grin as she depressed the button on the comm.

"_I know you've made worse choices_," Eleanor whispered in his ear. Did she sound angry with him?

"Clearly everything pales in comparison to the choice I made with you," he told her, feeling the futility of his failure to save her all over again.

Outside the Decon Chamber, Andie could see Reed turn his head and speak to someone over his shoulder. But she couldn't see anyone else there. Reed was all alone.

Remembering the way he argued with someone while she conferred with the Denobulan doctor, Andie wondered if she made a mistake putting Reed in such a sensitive position. She looked around seeking the opinion of someone else, someone who knew him better but there was nobody conscious. She'd been demanding that they leave her alone and let her do her work. Now they had. Only now that she had what she wanted, she wasn't certain she wanted it anymore.

There was no changing her mind at this point. It was truly do or die.

* * *

Travis Mayweather entered the medical ward nervously. His wide eyes took in the bodies of the command staff lying in their beds and the newly acquired Lieutenant Reed on his cot near the doctor's office. His expression gave away just how uneasy it made him feel. He shifted his weight awkwardly and exhaled anxiously.

"I had no idea it was so bad," he remarked, unable to stop glancing around.

"What can I do for you, Travis?" Andie asked, standing right under his nose so that Travis would have nowhere else to look but in her eyes.

"I'm having a problem," he forced the words out with effort. Again he shifted his weight clumsily.

"Skin rash? Fever? Sneezing?" she suggested wearily, imagining his immunity to the infection had just run out.

"Yes, but not the fever or sneezing," he acknowledged. Another uncomfortable twist of his body had Andie guessing that he was trying not to scratch whatever itched on his lower half.

Raising one eyebrow skeptically, Andie raised her medical tri-corder and scanned his body. The results forced both eyebrows up to her hairline. "Oooh!" she uttered with surprise. "My goodness!"

"I don't know how it happened," he hurried to explain with flushed cheeks, knowing what she was going to say before she told him. "I grew up in space. I'm usually really careful about these things. I didn't do anything that should have led to this." He shifted again, rubbing his thighs together through the blue uniform.

"You went to the Reef?" she inquired, filling a hypo with a different kind of anti-biotic.

"Yes." His answer expressed his mortification.

"You enjoyed the show?"

"Yes."

"Did you…entertain…any company?" she inquired, struggling to keep a straight face. It really wouldn't do to snicker at his discomfort. This was a serious illness.

"No!" he denied vehemently. "I didn't do anything like that!"

"You didn't touch anyone at all?"

"Well…" his voice trailed off. "There was this one woman. She had long silver hair and violet eyes. She was beautiful." Travis's eyes grew dreamy as he thought of her. "But I didn't have sex with her. She sat on my lap for a minute, but that's all! We were fully dressed and out in public the whole time! My companions can vouch for me!"

"You had an encounter with Myrna Grys," Andie told him. "She's the resident madam. She dislikes the entire male gender and likes to spread a little something around whenever she can. If she sat on your lap, she also placed her hands on your face? Time seemed to slow down for a second?"

"Yes!" Travis nodded energetically. Again he wiggled, trying to alleviate the irritation by creating friction against his skin through his uniform.

"Transmission point," she told him plainly. "You should always be cautious of overly friendly ladies, no matter how pretty they are or how harmless they seem." Andie applied the hypo to his neck and pressed the button. "You'll need two more treatments over the next two days. And if any of your companions sat at the table with you, you should send them down to see me. Before things start…falling off." She managed to deliver the last line with a perfectly serious face, but inside she was giggling at his misfortune.

"I will! I will! I'll send Rostov and Woods down right away!" Travis scrambled for the door.

"Travis?" she called after him, continuing to study the data on her tri-corder. He paused. "Can I get a blood sample from you first?" It would be a tad ironic if the disease which might have removed Travis's ability to have kids if left untreated had actually kept him safe from the Denobulan spores that put everyone else into a coma.

While she was at it, she drew a sample of her own blood for comparison, wondering which microbe she carried or had been inoculated against was keeping her from suffering the same fate as the others.

* * *

She was cursing herself roundly in three different languages when she finished with the blood samples. Things had been happening so quickly that she had simply failed to account for her own symptoms. The weariness and distraction she'd been experiencing had everything to do with stress and hard work, and didn't signify in the least the onset of fungal infection. As a matter of fact, her own lab work indicated that she might have something useful in her blood. Her hands worked quickly as she processed the results and programmed another machine to synthesize a remedy.

It would have pleased her to no end to find that she carried some natural immunity for a disease that plagued the entire Denobulan population, some of whom had managed to save her hide on various occasions. She wouldn't have minded in the slightest if she could cure a sickness simply by being herself. Unfortunately when the results were posted she realized she couldn't make that declaration. The cure drifting around in her system had been transmitted through artificial means. She'd been injected with it. The events of the past few days had been a bit hazy at times, but she could pinpoint the exact moment she acquired a restorative.

Phlox had injected her with a hypo-spray as she tended to Jase and his men. She hadn't wondered about it at the tiem; they'd been talking about inoculations the other day and Phlox chided her for her lack of proper attention to her own medical file. It had been easy to assume that he was just adding vitamins to her system. Even in his awkward state, he'd been looking after her. She'd been saved by a Denobulan again.

Truax and Mazaro lay on their bio-beds. Stimulants and machines were keeping their bodies working. Andie had carried the cure the whole time, but they lay there suffering because she forgot to test her own blood sample. Her father would have hit the roof if he'd heard about it. If he'd been here, blood testing would have been first on his agenda. The crew would already be walking around, laughing at their inability to stop scratching the few remaining itchy places.

Andie spent her whole life telling the people who refused to listen that she could handle whatever they threw at her. She defied authority, telling them she was a fine doctor. Today she might be wrong. She'd been telling people ever since she could remember that she could take care of herself. That certainly was true, but the problem was, she couldn't seem to take care of anyone else. She fought with the United Earth Agency to make her own destiny. Working on board a starship was all that she ever dreamed about, but if her performance today was anything to go by, she certainly didn't deserve it.

Once again somebody had pulled her butt out of the fire. The crew was dying and it was Phlox who saved her. He was lying in a hardening shell of his own bodily fluids, freefalling into a coma and he'd been the one to save her again. She had to wonder if she had it within herself to help anybody around her.

The machine in front of her emitted a ding to indicate that it had finished its cycle. She pulled the tube out of the holding clamps and ran it through the main computer again, checking her work. The results were promising. Phlox had given her everything she needed. Now she could save them.

Although she held their salvation in her hand, she paused and looked around. Over the last few hours Ensign Black and Crewman Cutler had been excused from duty and encouraged to seek their beds. The few remaining science personnel that hadn't fallen victim to the deep sleep had been sent to Engineering to help with the cleansing process. The MACO that had hovered outside her doors all day had slid into a crouch, sleeping right there in the hallway. Captain Archer caught her eye. She stood at the foot of his bed. Once she injected this remedy into his system, he'd wake in a few hours. He'd rise, change his uniform and return to his duties. The first thing he'd do would be to call Starfleet Command and have somebody come pick Andie up. She'd be returned to Earth, a world that made her shudder to hear its name. The people in charge of her life on Earth would make sure she'd never leave it again. There would be solid reasons why, of course, but her wishes would cease to matter.

Andie's eyes were drawn to the computer in the corner. The screen was blank, but she could still remember the images on it. Three possible planets, two Class M's and one Class O; any one of which could become her home. She could have her own house, someplace to which she could always return. She could come to know the local grocer by name. She would have stories about painting the walls a rainbow of colors and the high cost of property taxes and she could declare a favorite bench in the local park. She could have a bag packed in ten minutes and be out of range in twenty, traveling to yet another new world to call her home for a while. She'd never have to go back to Earth. She could live her own life. She could be footloose and fancy free.

The Denobulan vessel, sent from a deep space medical facility and equipped with several doctors to tend the ailing, would be here in just a little more than a day. If she applied the medicine to the environmental controls, she could walk away knowing that she had given it all her best shot.

She could just go.

Her mother left her father, and then left Andie. Her father left her for further fame at the request of a king. Jase had left her to indulge in his own grief and weakness. Leaving seemed to be what people did. She was no exception. She hadn't stayed in one place more than six months ever. There was always another planet, another school, another illness, another assignment. This was no different.

She could just go.

Malcolm moaned in his sleep on his cot. The lieutenant would be happy to see her go. So would the captain; she didn't kiss his ass often enough. Trip Tucker would be relieved if she never asked him to remove his pants again. Tim Mazaro shifted in his sleep and she thought of his roommate, who shuffled nervously whenever she came near. She thought of the greenhouse Dr. Colt had left in her hands. Ensign Bowman had a knack for plants; he could take over. Jamie might be relieved that his experiment had a possibility of succeeding, certainly better if someone other than Andie tended to the growing green things. Mags would want to kill her; there was no question about that.

But they'd never be able to find her.

Andie fingered the hypo-spray in her hands. She could change her hair and her face and take up a new language and new hobbies and take on yet another new name. She'd done it before. Hell, at the moment, she had so many names she could hardly keep track of them all. She could simplify everything, just like she warned Malcolm.

She could just go.

She fingered the instrument in her hands and moved into action.


	51. Chapter 51

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 51

* * *

A/N: Thanks to those of you who read and review. Your input makes my day! It's unfortunate that Real Life thinks it's more important than my fanfic life, but you may be pleased to know that several chapters are very close to being ready for presentation.

and to lazylynx: I do know how frustrating it can be to be part of a fandom where you hate one of the characters that just will NOT GO AWAY! heh! I'm sorry that Andie is one of those, and I hope you can enjoy her more, or at least enjoy the story in spite of her!

On to the good stuff…..

* * *

Nearly forty hours later the Mess Hall was busier than it had been in some time, filled with personnel trying to gulp down some sustenance before heading back to their beds or their duty shifts, depending on the state of their recovery. Crewman Rostov hunkered over a steaming cup of something, his head tilting forward before he jerked it upright again, fighting the waves of sleep in order to eat before heading off to bed. Lieutenant Kelby sat alone at a small table in the corner, in spite of the crowded room, using a knife and fork to cut his flat steak into small precise bits. The galley had provided soups and other light fare for those still coping with digestive problems, but Kelby knew that he had played such an important role in the last few days that they would not mind fixing him a special celebratory meal. Across the room, Crewman Svenson cleared a table of dirty dishes and smiled a little as he noticed the officious little snot that was Kelby eating a piece of meat that had just barely passed its expiration date, and had also "fallen" on the floor during the cooking process. Served him right for creating an extra mess for the cooking crew, most who were still coping with their own distressed internal systems.

Ensign Sato and Ensign Carter shared a table near the window. Carter toyed with her chicken soup while Hoshi cradled a cup of tea in her shaky hands. In a few minutes she'd have to go relieve Ensign Shannen from her post on the Bridge and Hoshi was hoping she wouldn't fall down before she got there. It was with some surprise that Ensign Shannen came rushing into the Mess Hall at that moment.

"Lola!" Hoshi called out in spite of her raw throat as she raised a hand to signal the other woman. Lola Shannen stopped at their table a bit breathlessly. "I was about to come up and relieve you. What are you doing away from your post?"

Shannen looked longingly at the empty chair sitting at the table and sighed heavily. "I have an urgent communication from Earth and Commander T'Pol gave me leave to present it in person." She looked around. "Only I don't see her here," she finished tiredly.

"Whom do you seek?" Haley Carter inquired, pushing back a loose lock of hair with an exasperated sigh. She was not accustomed to looking less than her best in public, although this morning her personal appearance hadn't mattered as much to her before she left her cabin. She didn't see the reason she should go to any great lengths, since she would not be relieving Hoshi at the Comm for another eight hours and expected to go straight back to bed.

"I'm looking for the Doc," Shannen admitted. "The Engineering team is still running a diagnostic on internal sensors, so I can't use the computer to locater her. I have to find her the old-fashioned way. Has she seen her recently?"

"I haven't seen her since…" Carter's voice trailed off. She couldn't remember when.

"I haven't seen her since she woke me," Hoshi admitted. "She pressed a hypo into my neck and told me to rest for a few hours, then get something to eat before I go back to work. But that must have been several hours ago," she mused.

"Don't you think it strange that the doctor has gone missing during a time when she should definitely be here?" Carter brooded. "We're members of the Bridge crew! She should be making more of an effort to take care of us! Without us, the ship falls apart!"

Sato and Shannen exchanged looks. Haley Carter was not a pleasant person in the morning on regular days, and was nearly unbearable when she wasn't feeling well-rested.

"I'm sure she's doing her very best," Lola soothed automatically. It wasn't a good idea to cross Haley when she was in one of her moods. "I'm going to check Sickbay again. She can't have just disappeared." She offered another smile, as an apology to Hoshi for leaving her with Grumpy Carter but hurried off again, seeking a woman who seemed to have vanished from the ship.

"She should be here," Carter continued to grouse. "She should be front and center. I haven't heard anything about this illness, and I should think that she'd like to keep the crew informed!"

"I'm sure she's busy," Hoshi sighed, putting down her cup and tea and looking with distaste at the bowl of plomeek broth she'd been attempting to consume. She couldn't be certain that it was the cooled vegetarian soup that sapped her appetite away; it might just be the company she was keeping.

Liz Cutler slipped into the empty chair at their table. "It's nice to see you ladies up and about!" she beamed as she slipped her spoon into a bowl of minestrone. Her face was still marred by tiny pink dots, the last remnants of the spores that were slowing being deleted from her human system.

"It's nice to see you too," Hoshi smiled at her friend.

"You're awfully perky," Carter noted. "You must have been one of the first to receive medication." The sentence was almost an accusation.

Cutler snuck a questioning glance at Sato who raised an eyebrow in response to the other woman's belligerent tone before smiling gently at Carter. "I guess so. I just finished administering hypos to the MACO's and the Denobulan doctor told me to get something to eat. My appetite's just beginning to come back. I'm famished!"

"You treated the MACO's before the rest of the crew?" Carter's tone was a tad sharp.

"Ensign Black was treating the engineering department and a Denobulan was looking after the armory crew."

"Which doctor?" Hoshi cut in, hoping to cut off Carter's determination to be cross.

"Dr. Ymo, I think," Cutler sipped her soup carefully. "He's not like the other Denobulans, is he?"

Hoshi grinned. That was definitely true; Ymo was different. "I think it was Zhoki that woke me the second time. He told me to check in if I had more symptoms."

"Zhoki's kind of dreamy, don't you think?" Cutler continued; ignoring Carter's persistent deep sighing, created to gather more sympathy for her symptoms. "He's very handsome."

"You have a thing for Denobulans, don't you?"

Hoshi and Liz could only hope that Carter didn't mean that phrase to be as disagreeable as it sounded. Thankfully they were cut off by a fourth crewman standing at the edge of their table.

"Those Denobulans really know their stuff, don't they?" Michael Rostov stood at Hoshi's elbow and smiled at all the ladies in turn. "I barely have a tickle left in my throat."

"The Denobulans have been heaven sent," Carter cooed. Her mercurial mood didn't require much in the way of explanation. She leaned forward and twirled her loose hair around one finger as she bestowed a saintly smile on the dark-haired engineer.

"Looks like they're doing their job," Rostov nodded, flicking a light finger across Cutler's nose and smiling at the med tech. "You're still a little pink though."

"It'll…clear up," Liz offered in what she hoped was a steady tone of voice. She had been serving with Rostov for almost four years now. She hadn't looked at him as a potential partner until the Xindi attack around Azati Prime had brought him to her medical expertise. Although injured, he'd brought a crewman to Sickbay and while Liz had offered a quick look at them both in triage, she had taken notice of the way he cared for his co-worker, offering encouragement and strength for his suffering friend while they waited for medical treatment.

"We were just wondering how Phlox was doing," Carter broke in, relieved when Rostov's eyes moved toward her. "We haven't heard from Dr. Andie recently. We were beginning to wonder if she's still aboard!" The last sentence was meant as a joke, as evidenced by her teasing grin, which Rostov returned.

"Not all of 'we' were wondering," Cutler muttered under her breath. She was unheard.

"I can only tell you that she was here when the Denobulans arrived. I was the one who let them in the airlock," he assured her.

"How long ago was that?" Hoshi inquired. "Ensign Shannen was looking for her."

"Uh…." Rostov blinked several times as he consulted the chronometer with bleary eyes. "…about ten hours ago. They made good time."

"You look like you're ready for bed," Carter offered solicitously.

"Yeah, I could use some shut-eye," he agreed. "I'll see you ladies later." He nodded and headed for the door, yawning widely as he left.

"You don't suppose Andie's taken ill, do you?" Cutler worried as she watched Rostov leave. She always felt like she was dressed in rags next to Ensign Carter who always looked like she just stepped off the fashion pages, even in her nondescript uniform. It was a pity that she sat next to the prettier woman when Rostov was around.

"I don't know," Hoshi answered. She finally put down her spoon. "I'm on my way to the Bridge. I'll see if I can't find out anything about her. Or about Dr. Phlox's condition," she added. "The only thing the doctors will say is that Phlox is being examined."

"I'd like to know if you hear anything," Liz fretted. Medical files were personal but she'd like to know how the physician was doing.

"Yeah, definitely," Carter piped in pleasantly, no longer watching the door where Rostov had last been seen. "I'd like to know how he's doing. I won't sleep until I know he's okay."

It seemed wrong to doubt a colleagues' sincerity. Hoshi smiled politely. "I'll get back to you soon," she promised as she rose with her dishes.

She reported to her station on the Bridge where T'Pol greeted her politely, showing no physical signs of her distress, probably due to her Vulcan physiology. Ensign Higgins sat at the Tactical station and Ensign Tanner sat in the Navigation chair. Aside from the Gamma shift on the Bridge, the day was starting just as any other day had done. Hoshi made a quick check of the communications log to update herself on the condition of the ship, and then began sorting through the myriad memos and logs that had been registered since Shannen had left the station a short time ago. Hoshi was momentarily discombobulated when she realized that several communications had arrived for Dr. Andie but had not been forwarded to her.

"Dr. Andie's correspondence will wait," was all that T'Pol said as she sat stiffly in the captain's chair. Although the Vulcan was often impassive, Hoshi had the feeling that T'Pol was distressed about something. It didn't seem that she was willing to share those feelings however.

There were other, more pressing, matters to tend to now that the crew was regaining consciousness.

* * *

_He was drowning. While his lungs threatened to burst, Malcolm struggled to kick his legs and push his body to the surface but something kept dragging him back into the icy deep. Looking down he saw a thin hand grasping his ankle. Although the light was dim at this depth, he could just make out the features of the woman who held him below the surface. "Stay with me." He could hear the words in his head as clear as a bell. Although his arms continued to flail, he felt his will weakening. Her long brown hair floated out around her pale face, just as he remembered._

_Something broke the surface of the water over his head and he looked up. A strong hand grasped his collar and pulled. He was caught between two forces, and he had to choose which way to swim. The part of him that never failed to fall asleep every night for the last twelve years without seeing the face of the woman he loved wanted to sink beneath the waves and allow this struggle to end. But there was another voice in his head. It was his father's voice, telling him to get up out of bed, that Reed's had work to do and there was no sense in lying about and allowing someone else to take care of it. It was with some regret that he kicked off the hand that dragged him under and swam weakly to the surface. The hand that clutched his collar did not belong to his father, as he assumed it would. As his head broke through the surface, he saw his rescuer was a slender blond with strong hands. Unfortunately they were not saved; although his head was above water, both he and the woman were lost in the tall and tempestuous waves in the middle of the ocean. There were no boats in sight. They had no technology with them to send a signal. They were just as likely to drown. Only now instead of being tossed about in the relatively peaceful underwater region, Malcolm was growing a tad seasick as his body was thrown about on the turbulent tide._

_Her strong hands were no match for the force of nature. The two humans were pulled apart and the last time he saw her she was being swept to the apex of a large wave, cackling with crazy laughter at the force of the sea._

Malcolm woke up with a gasp and for a second believed that he was drowning again. As his body struggled to take air into his lungs, his heart rate calmed and he sighed with relief. He wasn't lost in the ocean; he was in Sickbay. The irony of his relief at being in a location he despised was not lost on him, but as his respiration slowed to something more manageable, he pushed the thought aside. Nightmares were not uncommon in his world.

Remaining still for a few moments allowed him to acclimate to his surroundings. His chest hurt and his head felt heavy, which might account for the dreams of drowning; he felt like he'd just been pulled out of a body of water. Reed noticed that he wasn't attached to any extra machines around the bio-bed, so intubation hadn't become necessary. His arms were wrapped in bandages although they didn't itch. He considered calling out to one of the shadowy figures he could just make out on the other side of his privacy curtain, but his throat burned and it hurt to swallow.

One thing was certain. He heard a familiar voice in the bed next to his. Commander Tucker seemed to be telling somebody a dream that he'd had while unconscious. It was a long-winded recital of a forest and a barn and chopping wood and a mysterious woman. Although interminable, the vocal recitation offered Reed some relief. It seemed that the doctor had come through with her promise after all. She'd found a cure.

He almost chuckled, but that started a more serious bout of hacking that felt as though it was tearing strips of skin off his already raw throat. The privacy curtain was drawn back immediately and Malcolm came face to face with the concerned expression of his friend and the inquisitive stare of a stranger. From the facial ridges he was certainly Denobulan. He was approximately Phlox's height but thinner than the ship's physician. He wore the traditional tunic and loose pants that Phlox favored as well. The expected visage of the human physician did not appear, causing Reed some concern.

"I see you're awake," the Denobulan stated cheerfully.

"We thought you were gonna sleep all day," Trip joked wearily. His voice was hoarse, possibly from all the talking he'd been doing, but other than that he seemed to be in good health. The engineer did grab hold of Reed's bed to keep from swaying on his feet though.

Reed tried to smile. "It's good to see you awake as well, Commander." The force it took to speak nearly left him breathless and he gratefully accepted the glass of water the Denobulan male offered him.

"I am Dr. Azu of the Denobulan Medical Guild. My ship, the _Zhorya_, arrived a few hours ago," the male explained as he took scans of Reed's form while studying the readouts that were prominent above the armory officer's head.

"Where's the doctor?" Reed forced the words out in spite of his raw throat.

"Dr. Phlox is in grave condition," Azu offered solemnly. "The stress he's been under seems to have done him a serious turn. My colleagues are checking on his status now. It's a good thing we arrived when we did. Had we taken much more time I believe his condition would be much more serious." His expression resumed its more cheerful aspects. "But this is a great day! It's been such a long time since the Denobulan Medical Guild has seen a case of Sleeping Sickness that had progressed to such a degree and it will certainly offer many hours of intense study! I'll be writing a paper warning others not to stray too far from their own kind, of course, but as much as one might offer helpful warnings, it is not so often accepted. So many people of course, think they are nearly indestructible and that the warnings do not apply to them. Which of course reminds me of the time…"

Reed put his hand over his face, perhaps to keep the headache at bay. When Phlox had first arrived on the ship, his habit of rambling on had nearly driven Malcolm to distraction, and it seemed to be a global condition among Phlox's people.

"Will Phlox have to undergo some sort of therapy?" Trip interjected as the alien physician trailed off, realizing with some confusion that his patient was clutching his head in pain.

"Yes, yes! Of course," Azu assured him, busying himself by filling a hypo and pressing it to Reed's neck. "A round of anti-fungal treatments along with some intensive vitamin requirements, possibly some light radiation treatments but he should be fine after a time. You're lucky you didn't have to submit to such an intense treatment! Just a few shots and a round of oxygen and a dermal cream and you'll all be just as right as rain! Isn't that an excellent expression? I heard it from a human colleague and I thought of course! There's nothing more right than rain, is there? Hydrating the earth and washing away toxins….Which of course reminds me of the time…."

Reed and Tucker shared similar expressions of polite frustration. Trip hung his head to hide his soundless chuckles, which the Denobulan took as weariness. The doctor started monitoring Trip's physiology with a medical scanner.

"It's lucky you could treat us in time," Reed choked out.

"Oh, there was really nothing more we could do for you when we got here," Azu started bustling Trip back into his own bed, talking over his shoulder at Reed as he worked. "Your doctor seemed to have everything under control. We were fully prepared to walk into a fungal storm and had taken the precautions of putting on our toxic element suits, but there was no need. The fungus was nearly deleted from the ship by the time we arrived. I guess the situation wasn't as terrible as we'd been led to believe. I believe one of your crewmen panicked to submit such an emergency call, although if we hadn't come when we did I believe that Phlox would be in a worsening condition of course…"

"Where is the doctor?" Reed started again. Her absence was beginning to trouble him.

Azu looked puzzled. "I believe I have been telling you in some detail that the others aboard my ship are still tending Dr. Phlox…Oh! You mean the female?"

Reed sighed as silently as he was able. "Yes, I meant Dr. Andie," he clarified as Trip looked on with interest at Reed's attention in the doctor.

"Oh, well, she's…uh…indisposed…at the moment…I believe. I'll have to ask Dr. Ezme about your crewmate." Azu was suddenly nervous and clumsy. He kept folding back the blanket on Trip's chest into a neat line, fussing over the edges in what could only be described as uneasiness. "Perhaps I'll go check on her now for you," he suddenly decided. With a nervous smile he scurried out the Sickbay doors, pulling closed the curtains around Trip's bed, but leaving the space between the two men open.

"What was that about?" Trip watched the alien sprint away.

"I can't imagine," Reed answered darkly, settling back into his bed with a dark expression on his face. He might have taken the time to interrogate Trip about what had occurred during his slumber, but apparently whatever Azu had put in that hypo had contained a sleeping agent. Reed drifted off, dreaming once more of a tempestuous storm brewing. As soon as he was able to rise, he was going to hunt that doctor down.

* * *

The computer beeped again, this time more urgently.

Andie scowled at the instrument and considered not answering. Her back ached from sitting in this narrow chair. She hadn't come down with the sleeping sickness that had attacked the rest of the crew, but she had been awake for several days without proper rest and had been appreciating the peace that she always felt when she looked out at the stars through the small window in front of her. Ever since she'd made her current decision, she had been relishing the solitude, thankful to have left the myriad of tiny relentless tasks in the hands of others just as capable.

The computer beeped once more. She had a pretty good idea who it was and what he wanted, but she couldn't conjure up any eagerness to engage in this particular conversation. They _must_ have found out by now. She couldn't put it off any longer. Might as well face the music, she thought, reaching out to turn down the volume on the audio recording that had been keeping her company.

Pressing the button brought the white haired man into her presence. From the way his beard bristled before a single word had been spoken, she knew she had been correct. He knew and he was not happy.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Admiral Gardiner barked at her, scowling fiercely through the view screen.

"At the moment? Not much," she greeted him with a perkiness she just didn't feel. "How are _you_ doing?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, Doctor!" he barked again. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Are you insane?"

"Sometimes crazy helps," Andie offered blandly. "If you're going to shout, do you mind telling what it is you think that I might have done so that I might more efficiently begin my denials?"

Gardiner glowered. "Did you happen to make a major purchase recently? A ranch? In Texas? Any of this ringing a bell? And what else have you been doing that I haven't heard about that you think you might have denials for?"

Andie took a moment to try and untangle that statement into something that made sense. "You are incorrect," she stated loftily.

"I am?" Gardiner's eyes narrowed.

"The majority of land on the ranch I purchased is actually just on the other side of the border. It's in Mexico, not Texas. Although if I read the contract correctly, nearly forty-nine percent of the land, including river water rights extend across the border, so technically you might be correct. It could be considered Texas property."

Gardiner's face hit his palm at great speed, just as the sound of his door buzzer carried through the admiral's chamber to the small space aboard the ship that Andie currently occupied. "What?" Gardiner barked into his desktop speaker.

"_Admiral, an intern from Starfleet Medical has just dropped off the hypo-spray of analgesic you requested," _came the secretary's voice.

Gardiner glared at Andie who smirked knowingly. "I'll pick it up in a few minutes," he told his assistant before shutting off his machine and turned back to the prescribing doctor. "If you're going to deny whatever you've been up to, then you shouldn't order a pain killer to arrive at the exact time I'm reading you the riot act," he told her, still looking grumpy. "It makes you look guilty."

"I had no idea when I would hear from you. I could not have planned this." Andie smiled sweetly. "Besides I just told you I bought a ranch. I'm not denying anything. Unless it's suddenly illegal for me to own property?" she added with a slightly acerbic tone.

"It's not illegal for you to own property," Gardiner conceded. "But surely you had to know your houseguests would raise eyebrows?"

"I don't have a house," Andie corrected him promptly. "I purchased land because I _intend_ to raise a house there at some point in the future, but _currently_ there is no residence to speak of at the location you've indicated."

Gardiner scowled. "You have invited guests to reside on your land?" he tried again, fighting to reign in his temper. He'd just spent an hour and a half with the Command Council shouting in one ear and U.E.S.P.A shouting in the other. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Of course I haven't asked them to live on the land!" Andie refuted. "That would be rude. I've made arrangements for some temporary shelters. I know this guy on the Mars Colony and he said that since the terra forming project is going so well, they no longer need so many of the domed shelters, especially around Utopia Planitia, so he offered me the temporary shelters at a discounted rate because many are damaged but they don't need a firm environmental seal to work as a shelter on Earth, and the guys I know offered to…"

"I don't care about your housing issues!" Gardiner shouted ferociously, pounding his fist on the desk in front of him.

"You brought up my housing issues," Andie pointed out unhelpfully. "I assumed you were curious. Look, as soon as I've got a house to speak of on my recently acquired land in Mexico, not Texas, you can be sure that I'll have a house warming party and you will be invited. Is that all, Admiral?"

"I don't care about your property or your house," Gardiner gritted his teeth. "I want to talk about your house_guests_."

"What about them?" she asked coolly. "I am allowed to have houseguests, aren't I?"

"Do you need to have these _particular_ houseguests?" He knew she was being deliberately obtuse and he'd just about had enough of her game-playing.

"I've heard such nice things about the Skagaarans that I invited them to stay with me for a time. What's wrong with that?" she asked archly.

"I think you know exactly what I think is wrong with that," he told her. She didn't respond so he continued. "The Council had just voted against their permanent residence, citing a lack of living space as one of the reasons. It's awfully coincidental to find you've suddenly offered them a home."

"Well how could it be a coincidence?" she asked in a saccharine tone. "I was considering making them my houseguests when I visited Earth last week, well before the Council voted on such a measure. I might think _you're_ trying to cause problems for _me_!" Her smile was that of a cat that had consumed the entire canary and its cage.

"They can't just homestead on your land," Gardiner told her.

"They have jobs," she told him defiantly.

"They do?" he asked, knowing he didn't want to hear this.

"I've decided to raise cattle and I've hired them to tend my livestock. The animals should be arriving next week, after the temporary housing has been set up."

The Admiral rubbed his forehead. "If the aliens are going to pledge a permanent living arrangement, they're going to need a personal sponsor," Gardiner told her. "Living abroad as you do will not qualify you to answer their personal needs."

"Lucky for them a privately funded organization has taken an interest in their cause," Andie announced with another self-satisfied grin.

"What…privately funded…organization?" He considered how lucky he had once thought himself, to have risen to the esteemed position of Admiral and how days like this when he had to deal with Dr. Brainerd made him regret his duty and service just a wee bit.

"The Chrysalis Foundation," she told him breezily.

"I've never heard of it!" he barked sharply, wishing he could stop talking and pick up that hypo that awaited him outside his office. Instead he tapped a few keys on his computer console, seeking information about the organization.

"They're new," Andie told him proudly. "Their main goal is to help people whose wish is to relocate to Earth. They'll set up education facilities for the kids and jobs for the adults and have assistance available for the introduction of the newcomers to normal society."

"They're _new_?" He repeated suspiciously. "Who heads the foundation?" Gardiner asked. He knew he had caught her when she couldn't answer.

Andie pretended to sort through materials on her desk. "I don't seem to have that name handy at the moment, but I'll send it over as soon as I locate it," she promised smoothly. The candidates she'd to whom she'd offered the task had turned her down, but she still had a couple of letters unanswered.

Gardiner sighed and stared at the woman on his screen. "You were here for a disciplinary hearing last week, and already you've begun disrupting the peace and quiet. Do you know how much attention the anti-alien activists have been gathering lately in the wake of the Xindi Conflict? Do you know what you're in for, harboring aliens on your new ranch? Have you any _idea_ the kind of publicity this will stir up for you?"

Andie stared at him very hard. "My father left Earth because he believed that humans should reach out to others without worrying about red tape. He believed that meeting new people shouldn't require a background check first. I believe people will think I'm carrying on his mission."

"Is that why you're doing this?" he asked. "Is this because of your father?"

"I'm doing this for me," she told him seriously, all trace of tomfoolery gone. "Starfleet and U.E.S.P.A. have defined my goals for too long. I've done everything you've ever asked of me and it doesn't seem to have got me anywhere. I was just thinking that if I left, I would have no place else to go."

"Are you thinking of leaving?" he questioned softly.

She lifted her chin defiantly. "I think it's time I define a few of my _own_ goals, and buying a house and making friends seems to be a good way to start. It may even provide a balancing effect for my more…animated…actions if I have something to lose. If you have a problem with this, I'm sure I'll hear more about it in the future."

"You're a real piece of work," Gardiner grumbled. "You really are your father's daughter."

"Is that some sort of insult?" she asked quietly, still frowning.

"Just wondering if we should call _him_ in for a consult in how to handle you," Gardiner smirked. 'How's your other problem going? The crew dead yet?" He could afford to be glib; he knew they weren't.

"Not yet," she answered just as smoothly. "The Guild ship arrived and two of the doctors are examining Phlox. The other two are concentrating on the human crew."

"And you're not driving them crazy?" Gardiner teased.

"I've been banished to my quarters for some rest," Andie answered darkly. Her tone indicated how ridiculous she thought her predicament was.

The Admiral took a moment to bite back a grin. "You're resting? _That_ must have been one hell of a fight." His temper, much like hers, disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

"I don't want to talk about it," she pouted. "I don't think Dr. Zhoki is going to speak to me anymore." Nor Dr. Azu, who happened to be witness to the worst of that argument.

Catching sight of her perfectly made bunk in the background, Gardiner couldn't stop himself from asking, "So how come you're not sleeping?"

"I'm sitting _restfully_," she told defiantly, as though he might be dim. "I had some paperwork to complete, letters to write, that sort of thing." Leon jumped into her lap and she stroked his head, listening to him purr. From the angle of her computer screen she knew Gardiner couldn't see the six cases of her personal belongings that had been neatly packed in preparation of her imminent departure. It had occurred to her more than once as she packed that she should sort through her collection of odds and ends and eliminate some of her stuff. There was too much to simply toss into a bag in an instant in case she needed to leave in a hurry.

"Well, as much as I enjoy these little chats of ours," Gardiner rolled his eyes, "Do you think you could get through one week without provoking some complaint from your shipmates?"

Andie scowled. "I'm working on it," she retorted defiantly. She hadn't told him that Archer would be sending her back sooner rather than later. He'd find out soon enough.

"Work harder!" Gardiner barked, causing Leon to hiss. "I'll have a security detail look in on your houseguests." _She must have been working round the clock to arrange the Skagaaran transfer._ "Your new friends might need the help."

"I've got a security team arranged," she assured him.

"You think of everything," he mocked. He grew serious one more time. "How's your _other_ assignment going?"

She didn't pretend not to know what he meant. "How do you _think_ it's going?" she retorted icily.

"Can I get a bead on how things are progressing?" he inquired sternly.

"You'll have my report when I'm done investigating," she answered cagily. "So will all other interested parties."

"You're a lot of trouble, Andie. I hope you're worth it."

"I've always been worth it before." To be honest, she was beginning to rethink her decision to stay, although she definitely wouldn't mention that to the admiral.

They exchanged a few more details before Gardiner signed off.

She'd been working around the clock to make the arrangements for the Skagaaran transfer and had intended for them to be in place before contacting the admiral, but obviously she wasn't fast enough. Time was closing in on her and she needed a chairperson for the Chrysalis Foundation before the organization became official. She just didn't seem to be having any luck. With a frustrated growl, she swept her hand across the desk, sending the few remaining papers and data disks flying. That was stupid; now she had to pick it all up. However, in climbing under her desk to collect her belongings, she found a data disk that she had forgotten about, tucked behind the leg of the desk.

Pushed into her hands by a mysterious stranger on a deck at the Starfleet Launch Pad, she assumed it had come from one of her friends, but they would have sent a note regarding its contents by now. She studied it for another long moment before tossing it into an open satchel parked at her feet, along with nearly everything else she'd swept off and picked up.

She'd rested long enough. She had more pressing matters to attend to.


	52. Chapter 52

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 52

* * *

Malcolm Reed woke with a gasp, still tormented by the dreams that would not let him rest, somewhat relieved to find the disturbing images were not part of the real world. He was still in Sickbay. Beyond the curtains he could hear the soft sounds of females whispering, but he could not make out the words; the thick fog still enveloped his senses. His chest still hurt, but the pain in his throat had eased. The itch on the skin covered by bandages grew in intensity and he gingerly tried to peel back his dressings to relieve the insistent torment, going so far as to peel up the edge of the wrap.

"I wouldn't," spoke a welcome voice to his left. Although soft, it was familiar. "Doc'll tie you down if you play with your bandages." The curtains had been drawn back between the bed next to Reed's and a familiar blond head was tilted in his direction.

Reed felt unaccountably cheerful that Trip remained with him. If he had to be in a hospital, it was better not to be alone. "Glad to see you're still here, Commander," he greeted his friend. "I was worried you might be gone already."

"Nah, I'm not going anywhere. The doctors want me to stay here a while longer. I don't know why." Trip shook his head. "I feel pretty well rested, like I just got up from a long nap." He yawned widely. His skin lesions were disappearing quickly although a few pink spots still remained.

"It was no nap, Commander. You're quite lucky." The new voice preceded the hand that pushed aside the privacy curtain. A pretty Denobulan female entered with a smile for the engineer. "I'm Dr. Ezme of the Denobulan Medical Guild ship _Zhorya_." she announced herself. "You're looking well, Commander. _Quite_ well, in fact," her grin widened. "My mother will be pleased."

"Your mother?" Trip repeated, puzzled by her familiarity. He remembered every Denobulan he ever met and she was not among them.

"Feezal is my mother," Ezme grinned again. "She sends her _warmest _regards." Her deep blue eyes twinkled. Feezal was Phlox's second wife, and she'd been rather fond of Trip when she'd come aboard almost two years ago to install a neutron microscope.

_Too fond_, Trip remembered with a suppressed shudder. He hoped it was just coincidence that Feezal's daughter's medical examination required her hand on his thigh at that particular moment, but he was afraid to ask. He also wasn't sure how to make her take it away, especially with Reed watching. Trip was so focused on the new doctor that he didn't notice the strange expression that began drifting across the tactical officer's face.

_Andie's gone!_ Reed reminded himself. He didn't know why he was so disappointed; she warned him it might happen. He'd just been so sure that she'd be here when he woke, instead of this parade of alien medical workers.

"I'd really be happier with m'own doctor, if you don't mind," Trip tried a diplomatic approach.

"I assure you, I am well qualified to treat whatever your ailments, Commander," Ezme announced with amusement. Now he could see the resemblance. Feezal loved to tease him too.

"Still I'd like Andie to take a quick gander at me," Trip insisted.

"Where is she?" Reed demanded harshly. The force it put on his throat made his eyes water as he fought back the urge to cough, but he never dropped his eyes from the Denobulan who refused to answer his questions without any diversion.

"She's resting," Ezme repeated what Dr. Azu had already told them.

"I'm done resting and I suggest we switch patients." The curtain billowed to allow Dr. Andie to step inside the white cocoon, and the force with which Reed exhaled in relief nearly caused him to drop back on his pillows hacking loudly. Andie continued speaking as though Reed had not made a sound. "Truax would like to speak to you about the leech therapy we talked about, and Trip seems anxious to revisit my bedside manner." She offered a smile to the engineer and noted Ezme's hand, still resting on his leg, with amusement before continuing. "One of the first things I was told in medical school was that I was not allowed to fondle the patient in his sickbed." Andie arched an eyebrow at Ezme, who only grinned wider. Andie dipped her attention to the data pad she was studying too intently in her hands, giving Trip the impression that she was trying to appear as though she wasn't laughing at his misery. "You're supposed to wait until they're back on their feet," she finished.

"Of course," Ezme agreed easily. "I wouldn't want to over-exert my patient before he's working at…optimum efficiency." She wrinkled her nose flirtatiously.

The two doctors turned to grin at Trip. He returned their amused glances with a good-natured frown. It seemed Denobulan females weren't the only ones who liked to tease him.

"Is there any _good_ news for the day?" he retorted sarcastically.

"I have good news, Tucker," Andie chirped. "You'll be heading back to your quarters later this afternoon. You're going to be back on your feet real soon. Of course, then you'll be right back off your feet. It'll be time for bed. And I'm sure you'll be _real tired_." The innuendo was barely masked. She stifled a grin as Trip blanched. He snuck a quick peek at Ezme's face; the Denobulan beamed even more widely at his attention.

"Perhaps a shared meal would not be out of the question," Ezme teased him further, verbally stepping in on cue. "We could catch up on old times." She removed her hand from his thigh by sliding it slowly down his calf to his ankle. He could feel the heat of her hand through the blanket and tried not to squirm.

"We don't have any old times," he protested weakly.

"Not yet," she smirked warmly, slowly removing her hand from his ankle. "I remain hopeful."

"I am so glad the two of you are getting along so well. It really makes my day to know you're enjoying my pain and misery." Trip glared half-heartedly at them. It was hardly the worst thing in the world when two pretty women enjoyed joshing him. In fact, it did his ego some good. "I thought I'd come back and eat with Malcolm if you don't mind. That is, if he's still going to be here." Trip darted his eyes to face his stoic friend.

Reed had gathered himself together after his coughing fit and was watching the human doctor as though she might be part of his dream. He wanted to say something to express his relief that she had chosen to remain on board. His cheeks flushed as he remembered his behavior toward her most recently. He'd been haunted by a fever that caused unwanted hallucinations. That's all that his phantom visions had been. It was a relief to know that the visions of the dead girl had been a product of a sick and fevered mind. He didn't think anyone else had noticed her and hoped she would remain his secret. Dr. Brainerd certainly didn't need to know about her. Reluctantly he brought his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"I don't mind at all! I _love_ a picnic in bed," Ezme purred with a sweet grin. "It's one of life's…second…best indulgences. It might be nice to get to know Lieutenant Reed as well." Laughter danced in her very blue eyes as she rested a hand on Reed's calf instead. "Perhaps Dr. Andie will join us. I'm sure I can manage to find a bed in Sickbay that is to her liking." Although still smiling, there was a meaningful undercurrent in her remark to the human doctor that carried all the up to her very sober eyes.

Andie smiled curtly at Ezme. "I'm not sleeping in any room that also houses the two of them."

"Well, you ought to rest _somewhere_," Ezme mentioned pointedly.

"I rested just fine in my own quarters," Andie replied. Her tone might be sugary sweet, but her eyes glittered like ice. "Ask Dr. Zhoki."

"Don't think I won't," Ezme beamed. She picked up the PADD that Andie handed her. "Let me render myself unconscious as we finish up here, then we can look in on your other patient."

"Sure," Andie agreed, stifling another grin. "'Knock yourself out.' " She repeated the human phrase that Ezme had unknowingly butchered.

Trip remained amused at the easy volley between the two doctors. Obviously they'd spent enough time together to mimic certain speech patterns and encounter some personality traits. At least he wasn't the only person in Sickbay that was getting a hard time from the visiting doctors.

"Tell Dr. Andie how you are feeling, Commander Tucker." Ezme returned to her professional demeanor. "Your fever has broken and your dermal outbreak seems to be improving."

"I'm fine," he answered easily. "Like I said, I feel like I just woke up from a nap."

"Azu said you were having dreams?" Andie prompted.

"Yeah, I was in this cabin and I was chopping wood…" He went on to describe his dream, more briefly this time, wondering why all the concern about a few nocturnal movies that only played in his head.

Reed still watched Andie, while she continued ignoring him, hiding her expression by studying a data pad.

The line deepened between Andie's eyes as she studied Trip. "You don't feel weary or worn out?" She finally broke in and cut him off.

"Nope," he answered again. "It was just a dream. I feel great. Why? Is that bad?"

"No, that is very encouraging," Ezme answered, making notes in her data pad. "Perhaps your well-being is what brought you through with flying hues."

"Flying colors," Andie corrected her absently, studying Trip intently. She ran her own instrument over Trip's form, noting the read-outs over his head with another deep frown. "Your recuperation is remarkable." She brought her attention back to his concerned face. "That's good news," she told him with a professional smile. "Let's get another dermal treatment before you head home."

Ezme concurred then moved on to the other man. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" Ezme asked the quiet man. She turned her very blue eyes in his direction and Reed forced his attention to her queries.

"I'm very well, thank you," he answered politely.

"You feel well rested also?"

"Yes, of course," he lied agreeably, feeling the back of his eyes scratch with weariness every time he closed them. "I'm fine."

Andie hadn't moved closer. She remained at the foot of Tucker's bed. "You didn't have any disturbing dreams?" she inquired. He seemed to be much steadier now than he had been a few hours ago. She didn't really need to ask about his dreams; he'd moaned and murmured his way through several nightmares before the Denobulans had arrived. He didn't seem inclined to share that information though. There was no need to confirm his restless sleep; the dark circles under his eyes gave him away.

"No, not really," he denied the dark and crazy images that had plagued him in the land of dreams.

"How's Phlox?" Trip cut in, leaning so far out of bed that Andie feared he might fall out as he tried to get a better look at Reed's charts, as though he'd understand what all the medical information meant.

"He'll be all right," Ezme answered with a practiced smile. "My colleagues Zhoki and Azu are with him right now. They seem to believe that he will make a full recovery in time."

"In time?" Trip repeated tactlessly. "In time for what?"

"We'll know more when the Denobulans finish their examination," Andie broke in smoothly. It was the same non-response they'd be getting since the beginning, but she had no way of knowing that it would only further their concerns rather than allay them. She put her medical machines back in the pocket of her blue lab coat, which she'd presumably brought out for the benefit of the visiting doctors. "Right now, we're going to leave you gentlemen in peace. You'll be in Ezme's capable hands. If you're very good I'll see that Chef puts extra gelatin on your lunch tray."

"You're not going to take care of us?" Trip asked, with a concerned look at Ezme's delight. Although he was fairly certain she was just teasing him, she still made him squirm with her warm looks, and the memory of her mother chasing him around the ship.

"I have some other duties to tend to," Andie answered cryptically. A device beeped from deep inside another of her pockets.

"What could be more important than your patients?" Reed asked with irritation. It was the first time he'd spoken to her directly.

"I have seventy-four other patients," she muttered as she pulled the beeping device from her pocket and wandered off, concentrating on the data, ignoring Ezme's huff of exasperated air.

"You're supposed to be resting!" Ezme called out after the departing female, who waved a lazy hand in acknowledgment even as she entered the doctor's office rather than exiting the ward through the double doors. The Denobulan turned back to her current patients with a frustrated sigh. "Her work on the condition of the humans has been remarkable, although I am concerned with her lack of care for her own well-being. I suppose it is not a surprise that physicians of many species exhibit this same trait. She's worked very hard to return her crewmates to their health."

For the first time Reed's eye wandered to the captain's former bio-bed. It was empty.

Ezme followed his gaze. "Captain Archer and several others were returned to their own quarters to continue their recuperation," she explained.

"She came up with a cure?" Reed questioned slowly. He couldn't believe she was still here.

"In the pinch of time," Ezme answered with a smile. "A few more hours and you would still be sleeping, were it not for her antiviral treatment."

"Nick of time," Malcolm corrected absently. "I thought it was a sulfate treatment."

"No," Ezme rechecked her PADD just to make certain. "It was an antiviral that occurs naturally in Denobulans. She was able to harvest some from Phlox and calculate for human consumption."

"Commander T'Pol was released?" Trip inquired casually, tearing his eyes away from her former bed with difficulty. He wasn't certain why he expected her to be here when he woke, but her absence was disheartening. In spite of the many bodies that still inhabited the ward, he suddenly felt a bit lonely.

"Yes, as was Ensign Nichols," Ezme answered. "They responded very quickly to treatment. Lieutenant Truax and Ensign Mazaro remain, due to their emergency surgical procedures." She pulled back the curtains and pointed to the beds that had been inhabited by those she spoke of. That's how they caught sight of yet another Denobulan.

"She's not eating. She'll probably die before we return," the alien muttered to himself. Ezme pulled back the curtain further and all three heads spied the doleful Denobulan studying the Pyrhithian bat through the confines of her cage without much enthusiasm.

"Good morning, Dr. Ymo," Ezme greeted him with humor in her voice. "How is the treatment of Phlox progressing?"

"They say he's fine," the morbid little man answered with a heavy sigh. "He probably won't die today at any rate. Dr. Zhoki thinks Dr. Phlox ought to be treated by Denobulans at the Prime Medical Guild, as though they don't have enough to do. They're preparing him for transport. It's going to be a very long journey. I offered to update the human captain myself, but Dr. Azu thought I might prove more useful in here, studying the animal life. I'm surprised any of them are still alive at this point. It's a wonder we all haven't succumbed to misery and death."

Reed and Trip exchanged glances and refrained from smirking. This was their first gloomy Denobulan. He was somewhat refreshing. And they would never forget that his name was Ymo.

A gray feline hopped up onto the foot of the bed and stared hard at Trip's forehead. She turned around in a circle before settling down to knead his leg with a loud purr.

"Hey ,Jojo!" Trip smiled with genuine pleasure at the shy little feline. "How are you feeling?"

She purred her response, twitching her tail three times before stretching out on her side within easy reach of his fondling fingers. The cat squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to exude contentment and ease. It was going to be a good day.

* * *

Phlox's office was a small room off the main medical ward, complete with a comfortable sofa and a large wall monitor. Rather than work in her quarters, barren now that everything she owned had been tossed into a variety of cargo containers, Andie chose to work here. When she dropped into the chair behind the desk and perused the medical files on the computer screen, Leon curled up on the corner of the worktable. Absently she scratched his head, which caused the cat to purr. The medical information was automatically updated as reports were filed around the ship. There was something odd that she just couldn't put her finger on and the data pad she'd been studying lay forgotten in her hand.

Ezme entered the room and stopped short when she saw it was occupied. "You are supposed to be resting," she accused gently. "We had a rather spirited discussion about this earlier?"

"I'm lying down!" Andie pointed out, indicating the pillow propped on one end of the sofa. "Well, I'm about to lie down. There's just one thing I want to do first."

Ezme raised an eyebrow. "You're working," she pointed out with amusement.

"Only a little bit," Andie protested. She stood up and moved around to the front of the desk, ceasing the caresses to her cat, much to Leon's displeasure. He removed himself to the sofa, licking the base of his tail while she began to arrange medical charts on the large screen. "This doesn't make sense, does it?"

Three files took up the whole monitor with the recent records of two men and a female. Clearly the doctor would not rest until her work was done. Ezme sighed and took up a position next to Andie. They both rested their backsides against Phlox's desk and studied the large screen in front of them.

"What do you find puzzling?" Ezme asked resignedly.

"Coma patients all exhibit reduced neural activity," Andie began. "In all three of these cases, the subjects experienced _elevated_ activity, indicating that they were not in a true coma. Everyone else but these three report the same symptoms. These three are different. It's odd."

"The female is Vulcan," Ezme pointed out. "Their blood is high in copper content. The Denobulan enzyme does not flourish in a copper rich environment. It should have kept the Sleeping Sickness at bay."

"So if she's got a natural immunity, why did she get sick in the first place?" Andie asked. "She was one of the first to fall victim to the sleeping sickness, but she should have been the last. And she never developed the rash. She only fell asleep."

"Maybe the copper kept the rash away," Ezme murmured. "Asleep is certainly the right word; her neural wave pattern resembles REM wave patterns found in sleeping humans." She pointed to the icon on the bottom of the screen.

One eyebrow arched. "To my knowledge, Vulcans don't dream," Andie pointed out. "That looks like a human dream state."

"We don't know that this is a dream," Ezme pointed out.

"Do you have another explanation?" Andie wondered.

The Denobulan didn't. "No," she denied as she chewed her lip. Stepping forward she pointed to the second chart, belonging to a human male. "But the neural wave pattern here is very similar to the Vulcan female."

Andie hit a few buttons, causing the two wave patters to overlap. "Actually it's identical," she murmured in surprise. It wasn't just a similar pattern; the two shapes were identical in rise and fall except that the Vulcan female's reached higher peaks and lower valleys than the human male. The odds of that occurring normally were astronomically high. Nobody had the same neural patters; not even twins.

"You said this human male was especially susceptible to the Sleeping Sickness. His illness progressed at a stupendous rate before leveling off. Is that right?" Ezme wondered. She too stepped away from the desk to peer more intently at the three reports.

"Yes, without explanation to the leveling off part," Andie confirmed. "The medications were not showing any signs of working. He just stopped getting worse."

Ezme punched a few more buttons showing a much longer diagram of the neural wave pattern, occurring over several hours. "The wave patterns synchronized at the same time," she noted. "They were dissimilar before this point."

"They started dreaming at the same time?" Andie wondered dubiously. "Do you suppose it was the same dream?"

"We don't know that this is a dream pattern," Ezme pointed out again. "More study would be necessary before making that pronouncement."

"But it's possible," Andie insisted slowly.

"Two patients dreaming the same dream is one probable explanation for the wave patterns, but does not address why similar dream states might prevent the furthering in one patient of a disease that has affected both patients."

"It might if one patient has a high copper content in her blood and is therefore less susceptible to the disease in the first place," Andie referred back to the female Vulcan.

"Then she should not have fallen ill in the first place," Ezme pointed out. "They are both recovered now."

Andie pondered both files silently. "See? I don't like mysteries like this," she decided with a sigh.

"What of your third case?" Ezme pointed at the third file. It was another human male, the last to contract the disease with any significant symptoms.

"He also presents with elevated rather than decreased neural activity," Andie murmured quietly, still pondering the first two files. A person could not pass immunity through one's dreams, could they?

"But he resisted the disease for a significant portion of time," Ezme pointed out. "It's possible that his neural activity did not decrease significantly before the medication began to work."

"He may have been hallucinating before his capitulation to the disease," Andie stated quietly, as though there was anyone else in the room to overhear. Even the door was shut between the office and the medical ward.

"Humans often hallucinate when their internal temperatures reach a certain degree," Ezme pointed out. "Denobulans have been known to hallucinate during times of great crisis; it's considered a healthy response." Her mouth twitched. "Perhaps this male has Denobulan DNA."

Andie looked at Ezme and realized she was being teased. "You think I'm projecting my own frustrations on the medical results of three patients out of seventy-four that fell ill with dissimilar symptoms?" she mused ruefully.

"You've been under a great deal of strain, being one of the few on board that did not fall ill," Ezme pointed out. "There may be some issues of emotional strain lingering. Unless you have reason to believe that this third patient has some underlying psychological issue that you'd like to present? Was this his first command situation?"

"No," Andie answered uncertainly. "I'm pretty certain he's had command experience before."

"Was he in command during a life or death determining situation?"

"Yes, but I think this was his first medical crisis. It's something he can't fight on his own," Andie answered, forming her own opinions about his underlying psychological strain that she was reluctant to offer to Ezme. "Perhaps I'm worrying for nothing," she finished, although the frown lingered on her face.

"Perhaps you're suffering from lack of rest, insufficient nutrition and an excess of artificial stimulants?" Ezme pointed out, making visual contact with the steaming thermos that still rested on the desk where Andie persisted in working.

Andie opened her mouth to protest then gave up and looked at the alien with a smirk. "Do you think I'm curable, Doc?"

"Plenty of bed rest and a good meal should put you to rights," Ezme smiled. "Zhoki and Azu are retro-fitting the _Zhorya_ to accommodate Phlox's transport to Denobula Prime where he is expected to make a full recovery. It should take them several hours. Ymo and I can handle the medical ward now that most of the crew has been returned to their normal health and the ship has returned to its normal decontaminated state. You should take this opportunity to rest. In your own quarters," she added pointedly.

The human forced a smile. Her quarters weren't going to be hers much longer. "I have one…no, two minor details to see to before I head off to rest," she announced stubbornly. "Then it's off to bed. I promise." She scooped up the orange cat and headed out of the room. "Truax would like to talk to you about leech therapy and Mazaro would like to return to his own quarters. I guess that's just three things…no, maybe four things…before I head off to bed."

Ezme was relieved that Andie left the thermos behind. She didn't relish the idea of wrestling the container out of the doctor's hands. She had a feeling that fight would be dirty.

"No, wait! Just _five _little things!" the other woman called from the main medical ward.

The Denobulan just sighed.

* * *

The chime rang and Archer barked an order to enter. Porthos wiggled around until Dr. Andie set him down upon the bed with a flourish. Happy to have solid matter under his paws again, Porthos set about washing Archer's face with his tongue.

"I thought you might like your roommate back before I'm banished to bed rest myself," she smiled. Lines were beginning to spread at the edge of her shadowed eyes. When Ezme had finally tossed her out of the medical ward, Andie had fought to be allowed to return the mutt to his owner on her way to her own quarters. She had a few questions she wanted to ask him.

"Is it safe?" Jon asked, running his hands over his beagle as though searching for bumps or bruises. "Is he okay?"

"I've given him a special blend of the medication and doused him with a dermaline bath. He wasn't too fond of that, but he acquitted himself admirably." She looked down at her own damp shirt ruefully.

"Thanks, Doc," Archer agreed. He felt sore and a little dehydrated, but other than those, his symptoms seemed to have disappeared. "I guess I should be getting back to work." He started to rise from his bunk, but a quick movement of Andie's hand brought forth the hypo-spray from her pocket.

"You're confined to bed rest until tomorrow morning," she challenged, lifting her chin. "If you object, you'll find yourself napping until I say so." She waggled the instrument, presumably filled with sedative.

He should be annoyed at her high-handed attitude, but the idea of peaceful sleep actually sounded pretty good at the moment. The ship was at a standstill, docked with the Denobulan vessel, and there were several medical professionals on board to lend Andie a hand, not to mention all the members of the crew who were waking up and getting back to work. Life was looking pretty good. "I guess I'll stay in bed," he conceded, lying back on his pillows.

She didn't leave.

"Was there something else, Doc?" he asked, when she remained in place, shifting restlessly.

Andie lifted her head and stared at him, making Jon feel like a mouse targeted by a hungry hawk. "You know, I've only studied the disease from the outside," she began cautiously. "But I don't know what it _felt_ like. I don't know what you experienced while you were sleeping. Can you tell me anything?"

She paced slowly at the foot of his bed. She'd pause at the window, peering sightlessly out at the stars before retracing her steps. For the most part, Andie didn't look at him at all; she just looked over her shoulder in his direction. He could see the question wasn't just about medical curiosity.

Jon answered slowly; stroking Porthos' back in long, smooth motions, as though he might offer the worried woman a little comfort by his movements. "I feel a little sore now, but during the coma I felt…asleep. It was just a deep sleep."

"Did you experience any images or sensations?" she asked intently.

Jon considered it. "I didn't dream at all," he decided. There was a feeling of lethargy, but not of reverie. "I hope that's helpful."

Still she didn't move. There was something more she wanted to say.

"I haven't had a chance to make inquiries of everyone who experienced a deep sleep cycle, but I've asked a few people. They all have the same experience as you; asleep but not really dreaming. With the exception of two," she added, staring out at the stars again.

"Commander Tucker dreamed an intensely vivid dream. He was on vacation in the mountains. He can tell me about chopping wood and tending animals and sitting by the fire. He feels like he's been on vacation for three days."

"Hunh," Archer grunted.

Again she looked up sharply; her gray eyes met his green ones. "What?"

"I just…expected Trip to vacation on the beach," he explained.

Andie tried not to purse her lips with frustration. She wasn't certain if anything she said was really getting through to him, or if she should be saying anything at all.

"What about the second person?" Archer prompted her.

"The second person…" she went on automatically, as though she was so tired she was waiting to be prodded into action, "…the second person dreamed in nightmares. This person spent his infected hours in nervous fidgeting and conversations with an unseen person. I have reason to believe that these nightmares are more than just a symptom of a high fever. I believe that this patient would benefit from more professional counseling than I can administer."

Jon leaned back against his pillows, wishing he was holding his yellow polo ball. "Are you making a formal recommendation?" Psychiatric instability would not look good on anyone's record.

"Not at this time," she denied, looking at her hands and pacing again. "It may just be an odd reaction to the fungal spores. I wanted to consult with you first. You know him well enough."

"Who is it?"

Here she cringed. She knew what was coming. "Lieutenant Reed," she answered firmly.

Archer nearly rolled his eyes. "Lt. Reed is a fine officer and I don't believe that he's in need of any professional counseling. Whatever your personal grudge against Malcolm, he's a good officer. He's intelligent and polite. He tries not to trouble anyone."

"Smart, nice, keeps to himself; you do realize you've described every serial killer ever documented?" She was just being impudent now.

"He's not a serial killer!" Jon retorted in exasperation.

"That's what they all say until someone finds their neighbor's pet cut up into bits and stored in their cold stasis unit!" She ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

"Reed doesn't cook," Archer pointed out glibly, pulling Porthos closer to him instinctively. He kept hoping she would drop it. He should have known better.

"Well, that makes him safe then," she ended with sarcasm. There was a brief pause before she began again. "I think your attitude toward a little counseling is something that could use some work. Members of your crew who might feel it prudent to seek an outside opinion from time to time might refuse treatment because of your bias."

"I don't have a bias," he refuted. "I just don't believe in therapy. We can all handle out own problems."

"He was suffering from hallucinations!" she protested feebly.

"He's had a rough time lately!" Jon countered. "Two weeks ago a highly-charged energy ball that was the remnants of a life-force locked in a transporter beam was careening around the ship! It killed a member of his team! Malcolm would take that very personally! And last week a silicon virus spread throughout the ship, nearly killing two of his friends, and then pirates…_your friends_…tried to take over the ship! This week Phlox's _sleep cycle_ is taking down a large number of crewmen! Considering what he's been through, I think Malcolm is doing just fine!" All that firm conversation made his throat dry and he reached for a glass of water.

"I think…" she started again. "He was having the nightmares _before_ he went to sleep," she tried once more. "I think he might benefit from the counsel of a professional."

"He's not crazy!"

"I never said he was," she replied quietly. "He just seems to suffer from more pressure than the rest of the crew, and I think he could use a little…understanding."

"I won't allow you to mark his record with something that might do damage to his career, just because the two of you don't get along!" Archer settled down, relaxing into his pillows. "I'll talk to him," he decided.

"But, Jon…"

"Are you planning on making this an official medical order?" he demanded. He was getting prickly.

"No," she finally decided.

"Then I'll handle it," he stated with finality. "We're all under a lot of pressure and I think it's best if we take care of each other." Jon found it disconcerting that he couldn't figure out what she was thinking; her expression remained politely inscrutable. "Is there anything else?" he barked gruffly when she continued to stand there.

"I wanted you to know that I'm packed," she forced the words out although her voice was very small.

"Packed?"

"I thought if you had no objections, I could get a ride with the _Zhorya_. It would save Starfleet the trouble of sending a ship all the way out here. If you'd like I'd be happy to look over your list of candidates and offer suggestions about your temporary medical officer."

"That won't be necessary."

"Of course not," she backtracked. "You have your own criteria, and you don't want my interference."

"No, I just meant that…I thought you might be willing to act as Temporary Chief Medical Officer. Until Phlox returns," he added hastily. "He will return, won't he?"

"In a few weeks," she murmured, considering him through hooded eyes. "You don't like me," she felt compelled to point out. His offer puzzled her.

"I like you fine," he lied. "And you're already here. And you're qualified. I certainly can't complain." He gestured a wide circle with his hands to encompass his bed and his dog in a way that was meant to indicate his pleasure at her medical performance.

That dig about her qualifications gave her a twinge, but she said nothing. "You were going to send me home because I'm a liar. That hasn't changed."

"No, but you can. You can promise me right here that you won't lie to me anymore."

Andie considered that carefully before answering. "I can't do that."

Her answer surprised him. He rather expected her to agree to anything he might have proposed just to keep from being sent home in disgrace, but she was still fighting his authority. She was still questioning his leadership. "Why not?"

"I will always have secrets," she told him bluntly.

"Like what?" He didn't really expect her to tell him, but he was amused at her dour expression all the same. He persisted. "Is it anything to do with my ship or my crew?"

Again she felt that twinge, but she ignored it. "No," she said confidently.

Jon pondered that for a while. "All right then," he nodded as though confirming. "But you will tell me if anything comes up in the future, right?"

"To the best of my ability," she hedged. It seemed to be good enough for him.

"There is one more thing," he added, just before her shoulders slumped in relief. "I don't like secrets aboard my ship. I think it's bad for morale. I want you to disclose your situation to a few of my senior officers."

Again she hesitated to agree to anything, choosing instead to scowl and ask "Who?"

"Commander T'Pol," Jon listed.

"Fine."

"Commander Tucker," he added.

Her pause was a little longer. "Okay," she agreed slowly. "I know you think you're doing them a favor by telling them about me, but you're wrong."

"And Lieutenant Reed," he tossed that last out there while watching her closely.

"No," she refused firmly.

"You have to tell him," Jon argued. "He knows you're keeping secrets and by telling him what they are, you'll gain his trust."

"No, absolutely not," she refused again, adding a shaking head to the mix.

"Refusing to tell Reed is a deal breaker," he threatened.

"I'm already packed," she shrugged. "Tell the Denobulans they'll have another passenger." She turned to leave the room.

He waited until she had a foot out the door. "Stop!" She was pretty good at these negotiating tactics, he thought. It's a pity she wasn't around for the first Vulcan-Andorian Treaty. "You _will_ remain on board. You _will_ act as medical officer until Phlox returns. And you _will _disclose what you know to the three people I have mentioned. There are no other alternatives. That's an order."

Jon wasn't certain if she heard him. The doors remained open until he was done speaking, but she didn't add another word. Already he was regretting his decision to keep her on board.

* * *

Andie sat at the desk in her quarters and scowled at the screen. She may be sequestered in her quarters, but she was still working at her computer, having called up the three medical files that concerned her. Putting aside Trip and T'Pol's medical scans for now, she studied Reed's intently. She had instructed the computer to run through his medical file and correlate all accident reports with his medical file. Four years of medical results were a lot to skim through, and she studied them now, knowing that she wouldn't get any sleep until this was resolved.

What kind of stress might have resulted in hallucinations? She chewed on her lip and poured another finger of whiskey into a glass, corking the bottle and storing it in a traveling case when she was done. Two drinks were plenty for now. It wouldn't do well to be caught drinking during the day when the captain had just told her she could remain on board.

Something funny caught the corner of her eye. It was nothing really, just a slight hairline blemish on the patella, which turned out to be a thin fibroid shadow. The thin scar was so fine it looked like a scratch on the medical file, but although she wiped at the screen with a tissue, the barely there line remained. The insoluble fiber causing the scar was usually associated with blood clots, indicating a wound in Reed's knee that would have been serious enough to warrant surgery and a lengthy recovery. She ran a quick scan of Reed's medical file; he'd never had surgery on this knee during the course of his service on this ship. There was reference to a bullet wound in his upper thigh, and a spike that penetrated his EV suit, but nothing that required treatment to his joint.

It was possible he experienced this wound when he was much younger, so she skimmed through his complete medical history. She found what she was looking for; he'd been serving on the construction of Jupiter Station and a notation was made that he fell from a ladder and injured his knee. The medical officer on record had administered a pain reliever and put Reed on bed rest for a few days. Those actions indicated that the injury wasn't nearly bad enough to warrant this small fracture or the build-up of fibroid tissues. Either the medical officer was an idiot or something else happened to his knee. She leaned back in her chair and pondered.

Andie Brainerd had lived for years under an assumed name and with a false childhood history; it made her more proficient in detecting the shortcomings of 'official' records better than most people. She ran another scan of Reed's medical records on Jupiter Station, studying all the injuries sustained during the course of that entire year that Reed was stationed there. His name was not associated with the medical staff at any other time. In fact his medical records on Jupiter Station were more than sparse, they were non-existent. Not once did he report the lab to receive any of the allergy shots that he regularly received on board _Enterprise_.

Andie sipped her whiskey. Reed served with mercenaries, if Eckta could be believed. There was a part of her that didn't believe he could be involved in anything illegal. The way he clung to his rule book like a shield indicated that he fully believed in every bit of information contained therein. Unless he was making up for something really ugly in his past, she considered thoughtfully. The death of his girlfriend couldn't have been enough to trigger the hallucinations in Sickbay, could it?

She leaned back in her chair and wondered what the answer would be.


	53. Chapter 53

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 53

* * *

Those gathered around the conference table tried to hide the heaviness of their hearts after watching the Denobulan crew exit the portal with their still comatose friend. There hadn't been a chance to say a proper good-bye to him due to the hard fibrous shell that encased his entire body. Were it not for the rhythmic pulsing of fluids coursing through the protective cocoon they might have assumed his demise. But the other Denobulans remained firmly hopeful of his recovery, save Ymo, who was surprised Phlox wasn't dead yet. Even Ezme had managed to look positive when regarding her father's globular form.

Now the normal course of business was at hand. Archer stood at the head of the table and waited to commence the proceedings until the final member had rushed through the door, out of breath and silently took her seat at the far end of the table. There was a large gap between her and the others, but she made no move to close the distance. She was also the only person present to have brought a beverage from the Mess Hall.

"Would you care to bring us up to date on Phlox's condition?" Archer inquired, catching Andie mid-sip.

She swallowed her coffee carefully before announcing. "Phlox was removed by the Denobulans this morning. His condition is serious, but treatable and they feel confident that he will be returned in a few weeks in mint condition. His condition is the result of a senior officer refusing to acknowledge his own physical and emotional needs and each member of the crew should take it upon themselves to reflect upon their own condition and attend to their requirements, whatever they might be." Andie kept her gaze steady on the captain when she said this, but he knew she was reminding him of his refusal to accept her unofficial opinion that something might be wrong with Reed.

Ignoring the small dig, he forced a smile in her direction. "Until Phlox returns, Dr. Andie has agreed to serve as Temporary Acting Chief Medical Officer. I'm sure she'll attend to all her duties with the utmost attention to detail." His green eyes bore into her and she knew it was a reminder of the condition of her continued presence on board. She had yet to speak to T'Pol or Tucker and she definitely hadn't gone out of her way to speak to Reed just yet.

Andie merely inclined her head to accept his introduction to the staff. Then she leaned back in her chair and kicked her heels up onto the table and sipped her coffee as he continued. She hadn't bothered to acknowledge the audible gulp from Reed's corner of the table when her promotion was announced. Actually she'd been working pretty hard to stay away from him for a couple of days now. There was no reason to change that habit any time soon.

"Dr. Andie has indicated that several members of the crew who went aboard the pirate's den known as The Reef might have been carriers of the Denobulan Sleeping Sickness, which means we have an obligation to check on their progress and make amends if we've infected them," Archer announced. "Eckta will allow a small boarding party, so Commander Tucker will be heading up the group there. Malcolm, I'd like you to join him. You will enter The Reef and dispense a canister of the antifungal treatment through their environmental control system and then get out of there I don't want you lingering there any longer than you have to."

"Me, sir? I could arrange for a team of MACO's…" Malcolm had no wish to return to the one place where people could place him as a mercenary but he couldn't very well report that to the captain.

He'd gotten away with minimal detection before and he was reluctant to tempt fate any further.

"You've spent time on The Reef. You know the layout better than anyone else," Archer told him, ignorant of the way the armory officer flinched at that statement before realizing the captain meant his most recent sojourn. "Take a couple MACO's if you want, but remember, we are responding to a medical emergency there. Keep it friendly."

Malcolm clenched his jaw. "Aye, sir."

Archer turned back to the group. "We have also contacted the Daihan people and offered them the same assistance. Andie will be leading the team for those inoculations. "

"I have already contacted the Daihan transport," T'Pol interjected. "They do not wish to allow Dr. Andie access to their ship. They seem to hold her in some way responsible for the actions of the current…Prince Paramour."

Andie couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Ask them if they'll accept a Vulcan team," she suggested, dropping her feet off the table and onto the floor where they belonged.

"I cannot be expected to dispense medicine to an unknown species without a representative of the medical community," T'Pol objected.

"You won't be alone and they won't know I'm there," Andie answered. She didn't elaborate, but they all realized she was talking about a disguise.

"They might notice if they do a bio-scan," Trip pointed out.

"They won't," Andie denied with certainty. She sipped her coffee without further explanation.

"I trust you can make the necessary modifications to pull this off?" Archer queried.

"Piece of cake," she answered briskly.

"Then let's get started," Archer commanded, rising from his chair carefully.

The senior staff dispersed.

"Doctor?" T'Pol stopped Andie before she could scramble away. "I can offer you one of my uniforms for your disguise."

"Thanks, but I have everything I need," Andie answered with a small smile. She'd been meaning to ask T'Pol further questions about her comatose state, the way she'd interrogated Archer and Tucker about theirs. More and more she was convinced that what she suspected about the medical charts was true: T'Pol's comatose state was related to Tucker's through a neural link. The doctor just didn't know how or why they should be interconnected. Now didn't seem to be the right time though. "I have to go…get changed," she stammered, offering another polite smile before dashing for the door. If she could just keep moving, maybe they wouldn't catch up to her.

She sighed in the quiet of the corridor for one whole microsecond.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Doctor."

Jerking around she saw he had waited for her with his back against the wall. "Thanks, Reed. I'll see you in the Launch Bay." She straightened her shoulders and started for the turbo-lift at a brisk pace.

To her irritation, he matched her stride. "Dr. Ezme said that you didn't use your sulfate theory at all," he continued, wondering what it was about him that made him unable to just let things lie still.

"Nope," she agreed, tapping her feet impatiently at the wait. "I used a sample of Denobulan DNA to produce the anti fungal treatment."

"How lucky it is that you came up with something shortly after I was incapacitated." He meant to apologize for tormenting her to the point that she could only work productively when he was absent but he didn't realize that his tone might sound more aggressive than he intended.

"Actually it was Mayweather's doing. His presence in Sickbay set me on another course of action. Would you excuse me?" she stepped into the lift and hit the button to close the door in his surprised face.

Ignoring the fact that slamming the door in his face was the rudest she'd ever been, Reed acknowledged that Andie seemed to be avoiding him more than usual lately. He didn't relish the thought of tempering his ability to do his job well in order to maintain a peaceful working relationship on board this vessel so he wasn't putting forth his best efforts to find her, but he realized he would have to make peace with her somehow. He sighed. It was a small ship. He could make an appointment with her after this current operation was over to make all the speeches he wanted. He was nothing if not persistent.

* * *

The ride to the Reef was fairly uneventful. There were few other ships in the vicinity. The NX-01 could not trespass through the heavy asteroid field, so a shuttle pod was dispatched at close range. Malcolm felt the knot grow in his chest as he watched the large ship change course and disappear in another direction. _Enterprise_ would close the distance to the retreating Daihan Brigade much faster than the shuttle pods could fly, although they would also stop a respectable distance away and allow the 'Vulcan Medical team' take the last leg of the journey in the second shuttle pod, according to the wishes of the SaiDai. It just didn't feel right to watch the vessel racing away when he might need her.

"Did you happen to get a look at Andie in her Vulcan get-up?" Trip slapped Malcolm's shoulder jovially as they stepped aboard the open cavern that was the landing pad. "If I didn't know better, I'd think her pointed ears were real!"

Malcolm forced a smile to be polite, but he didn't really want to think about Andie's ability to blend into any background. If there was any way he could have refused this assignment he would have taken it. Confronting an unpleasant part of his past was on the bottom of his list of things to do. He had managed to peek out the porthole and noticed that the scout ships that had originally kept watch over the entrance to the Reef had gone missing. There had been nobody to challenge their approach.

The humans weren't certain what to expect on the Reef, but it wasn't the sight of two multi-armed pale thugs holding weapons on their small party. Reed wished he'd brought more than the four of them. Commander Tucker was there to apply the human container into the alien environmental controls and Mayweather was happy to fly the shuttle. Woods was the only other security personnel to be found. Reed liked the thought of a MACO on this job, more than any of the regular security force. It looked like he was going to be useful.

All four humans had raised their arms in a gesture of surrender when a gruff voice could be heard behind the armed guards. "Put them down, _nikfark_! Let them in!" Eckta himself came sliding into the room on slimy tentacles, reaching out two digits in wide open formation as though he meant to embrace old friends. Thankfully he stopped before he could touch any of them.

"Colm, after so many years, I see you so much now!" Eckta's tiny mouth stretched into an oily grin as his wide dark eyes seemed to bore through him. If he hadn't been looking straight at Reed, Malcolm would have turned his head to see if someone was behind him.

"We need access to your main environmental controls and then we'll be out of your…hair," Reed spoke briskly.

"You all business now, eh, Colm?" Eckta needled him slightly. He whipped a tentacle at the guard who still hadn't dropped his weapon. "Do what I tell you! Now!" he barked. The guard stumbled backward at the force of the blow. When he steadied on his feet, his weapon remained at his side. "Come wit' me now," Eckta motioned them to follow.

Reed motioned Mayweather to remain behind and guard the shuttle and Mayweather looked relieved to do so.

The octopod led them through the rabbit warren of tunnels that bore their way through the former asteroid until they reached a rusty old claptrap that served as oxygen recirculator. "'Dere 'tis," he nodded.

Trip started to kneel down on the damp floor, but Eckta stopped him with the tip of one tentacle. "You only put medicine in 'dere, yeah? I wouldn't want you to put nuttin' unfortunate in 'dere, make ever'body sick. That might upset me."

"We're trying to help you," Trip snapped back. The octopus creature gave him the creeps. Trip thought it might have to do with the completely black eyes that didn't allow for any color or light to penetrate. They were eyes that saw darkness everywhere they looked, and Trip didn't like spending any more time here than he had to. Rather than continue nipping at the sea-creature, Trip turned his attention to the machine in front of him and concentrated on getting the small canister to release its medicine into the main ventilation.

Eckta lingered, chattering ceaselessly about famous people who had come through his bar, as though he could impress his human guests with names they'd never heard before. He wasn't really interested in their reactions though, judging by the way he spoke without waiting for a reaction from anybody. Woods stood at the door and never took his eyes off the octopod. Reed leaned against the wall and pretended to relax.

""Dey don't need no two of you to guard him," Eckta noted finally. "You and me, Colm, we go get drinks and talky to us while 'dey work."

Once again Reed was dismayed to find the barkeeper paying attention to him especially. "I don't drink on duty," he replied calmly. If he agreed, would he be taken into the bowels of this place, never to be seen or heard from again?

"Good! Den I'll do all da drinkin'!" Eckta hissed out his laughter at his own wit. One tentacle wrapped around Malcolm's shoulders in a way that did not accept refusal. "Colm, we go now. We be back when dey finished."

Malcolm and Trip exchanged glances before Reed was led away with his new pal.

The wide round room that housed the main bar and dance floor was nearly devoid of people. The lights were slightly brighter than they'd been, and this time Malcolm was aware that the floor was made up of a heavy metal grid. Under the grid lapped a pool of dirty water. Had it been like that last time he was here? Malcolm allowed himself a single moment of panic at the thought of what would happen if the gravity plating went off-line and all the water beneath him rose up to drown him where he stood before he straightened his shoulders and refused to look down.

"That Red, she slippery, eh, Colm?" Eckta grinned as he moved behind his round bar and placed an empty glass on the counter with one tentacle while another pulled the top off a bottle and poured an amber brew into the mug, while still another arm wiped up a sticky spot near the display of bottles.

"Why do you keep calling me Colm?" Reed inquired irritably.

"Dat what she said," Eckta looked confused. "When I axed your name, she said Colm Noir. You don't know your name?"

Reed bit back a smile. "Call him Noir" had not translated correctly and had become his new nickname. He noticed the sly look Eckta was giving him, which was so different from the ebullient chatter he'd been nattering before, and straightened his shoulders. "I prefer Noir," he explained shortly, thankful that he'd followed the directive to remove all identification from their uniforms before setting out on this fool's errand. It would make tracking him much more difficult later. He had a dark moment when he thought it wouldn't be such a bad idea to wipe out all the places such as this one from the known world with a couple of high yield torpedoes.

The green-skinned band leader returned to the stage and began to warble, accompanied again by his similar hued brethren and the many armed percussionist. They seemed unmindful of the nearly empty room. Malcolm assumed it was a rehearsal in preparation for the next night's festivities.

"Lor!" Eckta shouted. "He prefer Noir!" He jabbed a tentacle at Reed and Lor, the bandleader, nodded tiredly. The musicians began a slow song, dark and moody.

Reed thought the music was perfectly in tune with his disposition.

"How come Red don't come wit' you?" Eckta asked, leaning in and speaking confidentially into Reed's ear.

"Does she seem the type to head out on an errand of mercy?" Reed responded with an appropriate level of sarcasm. He didn't think too hard about how easy it was to slip back into the persona of a pirate.

The octopod's sly grin came back. "You don't know her well, do you?"

Reed cocked his head to one side and studied the barkeeper. "We're acquainted well enough. Do you know her well?"

Another hissing snort rocked the squishy body. "More than she knows," Eckta muttered. Those crazy black eyes studied Reed intently. "You want to see somethin', Noir? Somethin' about your girl?"

"What did you have in mind?" Reed replied. Obviously it was something that Eckta was dying to show him, but for whatever reason he wanted it to look as though Malcolm wanted whatever it was. In spite of his decision to make amends to the doctor, Malcolm couldn't help the curiosity that ate at him. He nodded at Eckta and the squid led him away through another door into the darkness of The Reef.

Eleanor would not have approved, but she wasn't here.

* * *

The mission involving the Daihan princess and her contingent of ladies in waiting was mostly uneventful as well. As Andie had promised, the Daihan guards who allowed them entrance did not conduct bio-scans. Starting with the armed ships that guarded their royal cargo, Andie and T'Pol were able to conduct quick scans of each vessel, not discovering any of the virulent fungal spores that had taken over the human vessel so quickly.

Moving on to the larger vessel housing the royal family, they underwent the same physical pat down for weapons, but again there were no technological advancements to assure their identity to the guards. The guards nodded at their two pointed-eared guests and gestured them through a portal at the end of the corridor. The SaiMei was surrounded by other young ladies and they chattered incessantly about the formal wedding preparations that would begin taking place on the Daihan Homeworld as soon as they arrived. Barely any attention was paid to the mostly silent visitors as they waved medical tri-corders at each female, and each negative sign of the Sleeping Sickness was met with agreeable eyebrows from the Starfleet conspirators.

T'Pol and Andie made preparations to exit the Daihan ship, gathering their supplies back into the medical kits they carried. The Vulcan had been impressed that her human companion spoke fluent Vulcan, and when she spoke to the Daihan, she even had the appropriately heavy accent that was indicative of the formal language used in courts and legal proceedings by the leaders of Vulcan, not that the Daihan would know the difference in languages. Andie seemed unconcerned that the Daihan might be translating the words she spoke, and with good reason. Except for the guards who followed them through the ship and held their weapons at attention, little interest was paid to them at all. Quietly, T'Pol told the guards to thank the SaiDai for his assistance and requested permission to depart.

It was not the king but the Prince Paramour that met them at the door. "Leaving so soon?" Jase inquired sardonically. He wore rich robes now and a circlet on his head, but his derisive scowl remained the same.

"We have completed our scans," T'Pol informed him, standing in front of Andie as though to shield the other woman with her body. "We are ready to take our leave."

"Who said you could go?" he asked, stepping around T'Pol to look into the face of the woman just behind. "Perhaps I require some medical attention myself."

"Then you should make a request to the SaiDai," T'Pol told him briefly.

"I am making a request of you," he said, looking directly at Andie. It didn't seem that her disguise fooled him at all.

Andie looked him in the eye. "I have completed my vork here. Your health is no longer my concern. You should look to your vife for your future needs." The formal high speech transcribed the 'V' and 'W' sounds.

"What if my future needs require a…Vulcan medic?" he teased, reaching out to run a finger across her collarbone and the dark brown silks that covered her from neck to toe.

"Then I suggest you contact the Wulcan High Command," she told him firmly.

"We would like to allow you to return to your journey without further delay," T'Pol added tightly, lifting her chin in an effort to be intimidating.

"You could stay?" he offered once again, ignoring T'Pol as though she'd never spoken and lightly touching the golden hair of his former companion that had been arranged in an elegant fold at the back of head and held in place with a thin gold band. "I'm a prince now. I could make things easy for you."

It was an offer. She could go with him, to live as a companion in the royal household of Daihan. She would have comfortable quarters and many nice things. She could remain with a man who had been her best friend, who had shared everything with her right before he tried to kill her, not once but twice. And she'd let him go both times without punishment, she reminded herself. She must be crazy to drop him back into this Daihan mess and expect it to end well. One quick look at the rich detail of his robe and the metal circlet that wound around his forehead and Andie knew that he was beyond her reach, even if she wanted to change her mind.

"Ve are finished vith the princess," Andie spoke stiffly. "Ve vill leaf."

Jase's hand dropped to his side once more. "Then go," he snapped, stepping back and letting the alien females step through the airlock into their small shuttle pod once more.

T'Pol could appreciate the calm that kept Andie demure in the presence of a man determined to torment her. Not all of her human crewmates had exhibited that kind of restraint over the years, a trait that the Vulcan certainly hadn't expected of this particularly volatile human.

"You handled yourself well," T'Pol commented as the smaller shuttle dropped away from the Daihan ships and started back to the place where _Enterprise_ waited.

"Because I didn't punch him in the face?" Andie questioned acerbically.

"Yes," T'Pol agreed.

"I should have," Andie muttered. "Just one good blow for old times' sake." She sighed heavily.

"That would have made our medical mission…difficult." T'Pol sounded a little amused.

"Yes," Andie sighed again, cranky that the realization that he was gone for good made her a little wistful. The best thing for her to do would be to remember why his absence was for the best. "How much time do we have until we rendezvous with the ship?"

"Seventy-two minutes," T'Pol confirmed, checking out the charts.

"Archer wanted me to tell you something," Andie began slowly. She dreaded the retelling.

T'Pol finished programming the auto-pilot and swiveled her chair around to face the female seated behind her. "Go ahead."

Andie insisted on a vow of secrecy, and then began the rather long tale.

* * *

Eckta dragged Malcolm back into a tiny room filled with view screens. "I tell you dis as a friend," the squid nudged the man conspiratorially. "I tell you we could make bucks from Red wit' a little help."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Reed told him impatiently. "Get to the point."

Eckta's face darkened. People didn't usually talk that way to him inside his own bar, and he didn't like it. Every patron knew not to screw with the sea creature. "She's wanted in three different systems. At least two of her…heh, let's call 'em _fans_….would pay a premium to bring her to 'dem. We could split the money."

Malcolm frowned. "I thought you were her friend," he pointed out.

"Friends? Red and I were never friends!" Eckta called up several different tapes, and Malcolm realized the squid had already selected them; he'd been planning to make this offer since before the humans returned to the station. The tapes played out on the screens in front of him painted a bleak story, less noble than the one he'd come to believe, and more in keeping with a woman who would hide her past at all costs.

Andie, on stage, dressed in skimpy clothing, captivated the crowd by gyrating to the music. She sauntered off the platform into the unruly crush of persons that surrounded the stage to lay her hand on the arm of a male who seemed to be struggling with his female prostitute. It was difficult to make out their movements as a brawl seemed to be brewing in the room around them, but it looked like she was stealing the rich patron from the poor girl. Given Andie's distinct and somewhat violent reaction to being touched without her consent, Reed found it hard to believe that was true. She focused her attention on the male who forgot to continue beating the weeping girl at his side when the woman in red thrust her nearly uncovered bosoms at him. He set his sweaty hands on her shoulders and didn't notice when she swept the girl behind her into the arms of a green musician who pulled the girl away under the stage. Andie kept her body between the thug and the cowering, bloody female as she ran her hand along the bulging muscle of his arm and offered that slow, hot grin before signaling for a round of drinks, distracting him from his prey.

"That guy claimed she stole a piece of jewelry from him. Nobody could see nuttin', or at least they said nuttin', but she's got quick hands," Eckta was watching his reaction closely. "He pro'ly be happy to make her acquaintance again under better circumstances for him."

"Didn't you investigate these allegations?" Malcolm inquired. The crowd swirled around the surveillance equipment and it was hard to make out what was happening.

"Nobody ever catches Red if she don't want to be caught," Eckta told him plainly. The squid hit a few more buttons and brought up a different scene.

On a different night in the bar, a young female threw a drink in Andie's face. Andie struck the female hard enough to drop her to her knees. Other people got involved and the scene devolved into chaos; women struggling with other women while males and other observers placed wagers on the outcome rather than lending a hand to stop the fight.

"T'at little girl wunnit never seen again," Eckta informed Malcolm. "Nobody who tangle with Red ever seen again. Not in one piece leastways."

In yet another short clip, the bar looked like it had barely survived a war. In the middle of the debris leftover from one of the frequent brawls, Andie crouched with a sharp blade in her hand beside a bleeding female. Malcolm couldn't tell if she was rendering aid, or cutting the girl further. Although the tapes were unclear, Malcolm was pretty certain he could guess which option was more likely from the woman he'd come to know.

"T'at girl had an offer to go wit' a rich owner. Red didn't like it that somebody else got her man. T'at girl vanished." Eckta made a soft popping sound with his mouth to indicate her disappearance. "Red is dangerous, but desirable. There's profit to made wit' that one."

In spite of the fact that these images seemed to prove every angry thought he'd ever had about her, Malcolm felt they didn't tell the whole picture. _"You're not listening,"_ his ghost had insisted during the course of his fever. Andie may have done all these things that Eckta said, but Reed discovered he believed her when she said that she smuggled girls out of Eckta's Reef. That beaten prostitute, the angry antagonist, and this bloody girl who barely looked old enough to frequent an establishment like Eckta's, let alone work in a professional capacity were probably all living somewhere else now, far away from the greasy tentacles of this monstrous barkeep, due to one determined doctor. He wondered how she had managed to fake her death and got the entire den of thieves to believe it. And she'd walked right inside it once again to save the blue fellow she called her friend.

Malcolm casually fingered his sidearm and looked directly at Eckta's face. "There will be no deal today. If you speak of it again to anyone, you'll have to deal with me."

Eckta's black eyes lost their fanaticism and hardened. "Don't threaten me in my place, boy."

"Don't threaten the lady in my care, squid," Malcolm countered in a low purr.

The squid glared once more before allowing his missed opportunity to pass by with a hiss of his terrible laughter. "So it's like that, is it? You don't know her. She'll lead you on and then she'll leave you high and dry. It's what she does best." Those wet black eyes studied Malcolm's resolve, which did not waver. He relented. One tentacle flipped the monitors off. "Come on, Noir. I'll buy you another drink."

* * *

T'Pol and Andie stepped into the familiar corridors of _Enterprise_ with relief. The journey back had passed quickly as T'Pol listened without interruption. Andie couldn't decipher the Vulcan's reaction to the tale and the Vulcan didn't offer any commentary. It was weird to air her dirty laundry for the second time in a matter of days, after spending so much time trying to pretend it never happened. She ought to feel relieved, but instead her stomach was tied in knots.

"How have Commander Tucker and his team fared?" T'Pol asked, standing attentively before the captain.

Andie looked up to realize that Archer had met them outside the Shuttle Bay. She hadn't even noticed.

"They haven't checked in yet," Archer confirmed. He studied the women carefully. Something had happened; he just couldn't figure out what. Hope sprang up in his chest. If Andie was complying with his demands, he might be able to let her stay. The knot of tension seemed to lessen in his chest.

"You should have received a progress report by now," T'Pol noted, feeling her insides curl together. Perhaps the chief engineer was in danger.

"The asteroid belt that houses the Reef might be interfering with their communicators," Jon said with a confidence he didn't feel. "We're headed back that direction now. We'll be there shortly."

"I'd like to take a shuttle and observe their progress myself if you don't mind," Andie volunteered cautiously.

"I thought you weren't welcome aboard Eckta's Reef?" Archer inquired, faintly surprised at her request.

"I'm not myself today," she answered with a brief gesture at her Vulcan disguise that had worked so well on the Daihan.

"All right," Archer agreed. "We leave as soon as we're in range."

'Would it be possible to get a list of all the equipment Tucker took with him? I might see something he missed." Andie followed at the captain's heels.

* * *

Trip was still grunting over the foreign machinery when a cleaner hand than his offered a slender tool. "You may find this to be of some assistance, Commander."

He looked up to see a slender Vulcan standing at his shoulder. "Thanks," he muttered, wiping the sweat off his brow with his sleeve before taking the new tool. It was just what he needed to pry the last valve open. Slipping the contents of the medical container into the ventilation was just a step away now.

"Will your repairs be completed soon? I would care to partake of a cup of coffee."

Trip looked up again at the slender female with the pointed ears. "Andie?" he whispered with a grin. "That really you in there?" Her disguise was truly impressive up close.

"No," she disagreed solemnly, with a twinkle in her eye. "It is not me. Will you be long?"

"Not long now," he admitted with a sigh of relief. This place was moist and grungy. He didn't think an hour of showering would let him feel clean again. "You look great."

The Vulcan face frowned. "Hurry and finish, then head back to the shuttle. We need to get moving."

"Sure thing…Sub-Commander," Trip grinned. The brown silk suit was not unlike the one that T'Pol had worn for two years. "Just give me five more minutes."

* * *

Malcolm remained at the main bar, hunkered over his still full beverage. From this particular seat he could catch in the reflection over the bar anyone who passed through the room. One female had entered and caught his eye. She was the one who had claimed Jase as her lover. She sported a black eye, and what's more, some old bruises that were barely healed peeked out from under her low cut top. It seemed a shame to leave her here when this was over. He nearly missed Archer's entrance, so entranced was he on watching the working female.

"I see you're hard at work," Archer teased as he slid onto the stool next to the brooding man, noting the female in full view.

"It's a dirty job, sir," Malcolm agreed with mock seriousness.

"Think I can get one of those?" Jon nodded at the glass.

Malcolm slid his glass over. "Drink mine if you like, sir. Eckta poured it for me himself."

Archer stopped with the glass halfway to his mouth. "Is he still mad about the damage?" He looked around at a few new blemishes on the worn and faded interior from explosions and weapons fire.

"It's hard to tell." Reed swung his body around to face the captain. "We should leave here as soon as possible, sir."

"I'm working on that, Malcolm," Archer assured him. He watched the shorter man's eyes wander again to the female. "She's pretty."

"She seems to be sporting some extra damage, sir." Malcolm fiddled with a napkin. "Perhaps we could offer her sanctuary?"

"Did she ask you for sanctuary?" Jon inquired, surprised that his stoic armory officer might be turned by a pretty face.

"No, but she might have reason to wonder if someone might overhear her request and retaliate." Tilting his head, Malcolm indicated the security cameras surreptitiously.

"I don't think…" Archer's sentence cut off as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Andie was crossing the floor. In addition to her garb and patterns of speech, she also had a knack for gliding along the floor in near silence, as most Vulcan's moved.

Malcolm watched her come closer. In the slightly brighter lights of the main room, she'd pulled her travel cloak over her head, but he would have known her anywhere. "Excuse me, miss," he called out, raising his hand to garner her attention. "I'd like another, if you please." He waggled his glass in her direction.

"I'm not a serving wench, jackass," Andie's low voice was tense as she stopped right next to him.

"Forgive me," he apologized easily. "Clearly a mistake." He was perversely amused to watch her jaw line clench as she fought back the nasty rejoinder she ached to make.

"Trip's nearly done. Are you ready to go, or would you care for another round?" she asked icily. "I hope you're enjoying your leisure time."

"Malcolm's considering taking a wench home," Archer joked easily, indicating the female who cleaned another table.

"She's not your type," Andie bit off the words sharply, as though they might bite her back.

"I'll let you two work it out," Archer slid off the stool. "I'm going to go help Trip finish up." He passed through the room quickly.

The doctor remained on her feet and looked carefully around the nearly empty room. The band still played in the background. "Lor's pretty good," Andie idly noticed, as she swiveled her head back around to Malcolm.

Reed tried not to look at her. ""You're not safe here. The barkeep has some nefarious plans."

"He always does," she acknowledged easily. "I'm not worried about Eckta."

"You should be," Malcolm warned. "He wants to sell you for profit."

"I know where Eckta's most prized possession lies. Believe me. He won't touch me," she said quietly.

"He seemed very determined," Reed insisted. "Perhaps he's worried you'll make off with his…prized possession, whatever that is."

"He knows I don't want it." Andie refuted wryly.

This time he did look at her. Over her shoulder he could see Trip and Woods waving at him from the doorway. With a surreptitious wave of his hand behind her back, he sent them on their way. "Can I buy you a drink? We should speak privately."

"Vulcans do not consume alcohol," she stated evenly.

He wondered if she was being deliberately obtuse or if the skill came naturally to her. With a heavy sigh, Malcolm nodded toward the battered female still bussing tables. "Perhaps we should offer her an escape."

"She won't take it," Andie told him with certainty.

"Are you telling me she would prefer to remain a prostitute rather than live an honest life?" he asked.

The doctor merely shrugged and indicated with her hands that he was free to make the offer. Malcolm wasn't certain how a person went about offering an escape to a hooker. Trip had a movie about just such a thing somewhere; now he wished he'd paid closer attention.

She recognized his discomfiture and stood up straighter, indicating that he should follow her. "Yo, _bella_!" Andie called out softly as they drew near. "You want a ride?" Her voice didn't carry much further than the woman in question.

"Go _frak_ yourself," the female grunted.

"Last chance," Andie told her. "They'll take you anywhere."

The female replied in a very long sentence that the translator program could not complete. They didn't really need it though; her refusal to leave was pretty clear. Malcolm sighed and followed the female through the corridors to the Launch Bay. Only one Starfleet shuttle pod rested there.

"Gee, I guess the others have already left," he said with feigned surprise.

"How convenient," she murmured dryly, stepping inside and taking a seat near the back.

Malcolm wondered if his manipulation had been less stealthy that he'd assumed. Shrugging he slipped into the pilot's seat and confirmed that the rest of their party had managed to fit into the other pod before calling the tower and getting clearance for takeoff.

"This is a different hangar than the one we used last time," he remarked casually as he lifted off from the enormous covered platform and drifted toward the exit portal. "There are fewer people loitering about."

"Of course," she agreed. "Eckta's getting ready to run. He kicked out the riff raff and he's preparing to maneuver. It is a space station, you know."

Malcolm couldn't really think of anything else to say to her. Why was it so hard to start a conversation? He had been an ass and he wanted to apologize; how hard could that be? Reed started making idle chitchat instead. "Where do you think he'll go?"

"No idea."

"Why don't you make an educated guess." Reed tried to make it easy on her by calling up a star chart. "We're right here." He pointed helpfully.

She heaved a sigh, studying the map reluctantly. "Well, he can't go much farther down. He's got a thing about Klingons and they own the lower sectors. And he probably won't head too much closer toward Earth because there are too many civilizations and border patrols, not to mention the Orion territories. And the sectors further up are considered haunted and Eckta's superstitious. It's anyone's guess. He'll probably risk the Klingons."

"Haunted?" He tossed a disbelieving glance over his shoulder as he maneuvered through the complicated system of asteroids.

"Sure, old space stories tell of a 'darkness that moves.' They say it 'swallows ships whole.' They say you can't even see it coming until it's too late." Under different circumstances she might have gone on to tell him the whole legend, but it was late and she was tired.

"You should tell that story to Travis. He loves a good haunted space story." They just cleared the thickest part of the asteroid field which made Reed sigh with relief. There was just a thinner veil of rubble keeping them from open space.

"He's a Boomer; I'm sure he's heard them." Andie fell silent. This might be a good moment to tell him the whole sordid thing. The tiny ship lurched quickly to port to avoid a tumbling rock and she decided against it. There wasn't enough time to tell it properly and he needed his attention on the debris field. Her relief was too quick for her own comfort. She idly considered the logistics of filling her schedule so full each and every day that she would never have time to tell him the story of her misbegotten youth. She bit her lip, knowing that course of action wouldn't be practical.

"Look…" Malcolm began then paused. "I wanted to apologize to you for my behavior before. It was unforgivable."

Andie was actually taken aback. She couldn't think which actions he was apologizing for, unless it was his suggestion to take Jase's woman with them. "No worries. Forget it." She settled back into her chair, staring out at the star field through the porthole.

"I'm not usually so agitated and you've been rather gracious in the face of my…"

"It's no problem." She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. "Your behavior was understandable." Her voice faded away.

Malcolm thought that might be as close to an apology as he'd get from her. He resisted the urge to huff with frustration and tried another tactic. "You said something before I succumbed to the coma, something about Post Traumatic Stress?" Knots formed in his gut; being treated for emotional distress would not help his chances for promotion.

"You want me to test you for it when we return?" She could not know that her guilt at presenting his dream state to the captain while insinuating he was unstable would cause her taciturn state to sound to him like boredom.

"Do you think I might have it?" He wondered if they might require a good security man in the looney bin.

"Everyone on board has been under a great deal of pressure lately. Anything's possible. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow." She dug through the small satchel that rested at her feet. From its depths she pulled out a data pad.

"That's not necessary!" He stopped her from placing the appointment. "Do you think my subspace relays are responsible for Blau tracing you?"

She sighed and rolled her head around her neck. "I shouldn't have said that. I mean, if Jase was monitoring human communications, he already knew where I was. It was just a matter of time before he found me. You had nothing to do with that."

"I'm glad you decided to stay with us though. And not run off somewhere where we couldn't find you." He tried for a light-hearted smile. His words were meant to be soothing but they just made her more anxious.

"Yeah, you're stuck with me now," she muttered. "Do you mind? I think I fastened my ears too tight. I'm beginning to get a headache."

Her tone was brisk and Malcolm was out of conversational topics. "Fine," he nodded curtly. He concentrated on the path before him, docking the small shuttle pod with the larger ship with careful precision.

* * *

Andie's head was pounding by the time she'd removed all the Vulcan prosthetics and washed up. It was long past the dinner hour and she was starving. She was looking forward to a quick snack and a long nap right up until the moment she stepped inside the Mess Hall and found Trip standing in the semi-darkness with a mug in his hands.

Gathering a sandwich and a glass of iced tea didn't take long. Knowing that one of her tasks lay before her nearly sapped her hunger. Archer hadn't put a time line on her forced debriefing, which was an oversight that she planned to milk for its full advantage with Lt. Reed. She didn't trust him. That incident with the fractured knee cap still preyed on her mind, as did his apparent hallucination of ladies long dead. He may or may not have been part of some military group under cover in Eckta's Reef many years ago, but she didn't want to take the chance that his dislike of her would put her own career at risk by his inability to keep her background a secret.

She may intend to wait until Doomsday to tell Reed anything he didn't need to know, but Tucker was another problem. On the whole she preferred to deal with problems right away; otherwise the anticipation would drive her crazy. She wasn't the kind to enjoy the buildup of suspense. She really preferred instant gratification. But in this case she might be willing to drag her feet a bit.

"You've been standing there a long while," Trip noted quietly without turning around. "Please tell me you're not just looking at my butt." His mouth twitched at the joke.

"Sorry," she smiled ruefully. "I was lost in thought." She sat at the closest table and took a bite of her sandwich.

"Penny for your thoughts, my mom always says," he said as he took the chair next to hers.

"I guess financial inflation never caught up to your mother," Andie grinned, taking another bite. Her jaw froze mid-chomp. Something he'd just said sent her into deep introspection and she forgot to chew.

Trip chuckled. "Maybe she's just thrifty." He sipped his beverage. "You can't sleep?"

"I was checking on a few remaining patients and then I was taking off my ears and feeding the cats and I guess bed would be next on my list," she admitted. She swallowed, suddenly feeling like her tuna and cheese was made of grave dirt. First she had to deal with this problem. "I have bottle of red wine in my room," she started slowly. "Would you mind sitting up with me and we could talk?"

"I don't know," he hedged. "It's getting kind of late. People might talk." He knew how quickly they would start talking too. Phrases like 'you're kind of hard to miss' were burned into his brain along with his flaming cheeks.

"Talk about what?" she asked, shoving the last of the sandwich into her mouth and trying to chew around the crust of bread.

"You know," he stammered, "A man and woman sitting alone together and drinking alcohol? It makes a certain assumption."

"That people who are sitting _together_ could not actually be sitting _alone_ at the same time?" she asked with a grin. Her grin faded. "You know what? Forget it. I'm just going to sit in my room for a while. I don't really need to talk about anything right now. You just don't even worry about me."

Trip eyed her dubiously and tried not to squirm. "Did you have to pack your bags before you launched that guilt trip?" he wondered out loud.

Her face broke into a quick grin. "I travel light."

He tried to think of some engineering emergency that would require his presence at work earlier than was necessary and couldn't think of a single one. "Sure, let's drink a toast," he agreed. He thought it might be easier than arguing with her. "We'll drink to Phlox, okay? One glass?"

"Sure," she agreed, looking particularly somber considering she just got what she wanted. Her mind was obviously elsewhere. "I'll meet you in your quarters in a few minutes." She dropped her plates in the basin and headed out the door.

Trip sat for a few minutes, wondering if he made the right choice. He didn't want to lead her on, but she seemed a little lost at the moment. It couldn't hurt to act like her big brother for a bit. She hadn't even made a joke about his pants at all. He set his own mug in the basin and headed back to his quarters.

He'd barely made it inside the door when his chime rang. "That was quick!" he joked as he pushed the button to open the portal.

"I am accustomed to reading material quickly," T'Pol announced, surprised by his greeting. Trying to maintain her composure, she handed over the book she'd borrowed. "It was an interesting if simplistic premise that lacked a socio-political overview and global historical context."

Trip took the book in his large hands. He'd forgotten that he'd lent this to T'Pol some time ago. It was called Little House on the Prairie, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and it had been one of his sister's favorite books. It was an old copy that had been recently been rebound by a rare book shop who specialized in such restorations. Lizzie, his little sister, had loved the story about two young girls and their parents making their home on the edge of the frontier. She used to beg him to take her to the prairie museum several times a year. The last couple of times she asked, he'd been too busy to take her. Holding the book was sort of like holding his sister's hand one more time.

"I forgot about this," he admitted hesitantly. "Thanks for bringing it back."

"You seemed to expect me," T'Pol pointed out. She wondered why she was lingering in the door.

"Actually I was expecting…someone else." He felt like his face was on fire as he admitted this to T'Pol. He shouldn't be embarrassed; she was married after all. Their relationship had never been personal like that. He was free to see anybody he wanted. She stayed with Koss after all. Trip couldn't even hate him; Koss was a decent sort. He'd helped out Archer and T'Pau when they were trapped on Vulcan recently, on behalf of his wife. Trip shouldn't feel guilty at all.

"At this hour?" she questioned sharply. Her Trellium addiction was the only reason she could think of for that unfortunate outburst. She did not care with whom he spent his free time or when.

"Yeah, at this hour," Trip countered. Now he was annoyed; she had no right to judge what he did with his spare time or who he might spend it with. "It was the only free time we had today." He didn't raise his voice, but he was fighting the urge to retain his natural drawl. His diction grew more pronounced when he was upset.

"Am I interrupting something?" Andie watched the pair spin around to take in her presence. "I can come back some other time."

"Nah, come on in!" Trip stepped back to let her enter. Something passed over T'Pol's face. It might have been relief or understanding. Whatever it was allowed her shoulders to relax, as she stepped back to allow the doctor passage.

"Excuse me, I must go," the Vulcan admitted softly. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her self-control was slipping. It must have to do with the late hour; perhaps it was time to meditate. "Thank you for the loan," she reiterated to the engineer.

Trip watched her disappear down the corridor before pulling his head back in and turning to Andie who was already expertly pulling a cork from the bottle neck. "That looks great!" he chirped loudly to dispel his own feelings of weirdness.

"If you need to speak with T'Pol we can put this off for another night," Andie told him, staring at him almost earnestly.

"Don't worry. She was just returning a book I loaned her." He held out the tome for Andie to catch the title. Instead of glancing at it, she snatched it out of his hands. "It used to belong to m'sister."

"Oh. Oh! Ooooh!" she muttered to herself as she perused the summary on the back cover. "She was returning your book!" _A book that no doubt had to do with log cabins and chopping wood and might possibly explain why a Vulcan and a human were dreaming the same dream at the same approximate time,_ Andie thought quickly.

"Yeah, just returning a book," Trip agreed, curious at her outburst. "You want to borrow it?"

"No thank you," she shook her head and pushed it back into his hands. "I just…it answered…never mind." She offered him a glass of the dark red liquid.

"To Phlox," Trip said, lifting his glass. "May he recover swiftly in the hands of his countrymen." Realizing how that must sound, he tried to back track. "Not that you're not perfectly capable of…"

"To Phlox," Andie cut him off with a sardonic smile. She sipped, making herself comfortable on the foot of his bunk. "You like stories? I've got a story for you. It's a little long and kind of a secret. If you were anybody else I'd have to kill you after telling you this tale!"

"Sounds dangerous!" His smile was much more normal this time. He sat down on the chair that sat in front of his computer and prepared to hear her yarn.

Of course, after he heard her tale, he wasn't smiling anymore. It made him a little sick to his stomach.


	54. Chapter 54

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 54

* * *

"I'm sorry I'm late!" Andie hit the double doors of Sickbay at a run. "I was writing a letter and…never mind…it's not important." She looked around at the group of people standing impatiently. "Was there a bad batch of breakfast?" she wondered out loud, puzzled at the crowd.

"You are supposed to be here early for the weekly allergy injections," Black told her curtly. "Now everybody's late for their shift and you have to call in and explain!"

"I'll get right on that!" Andie promised with a huff. She struggled to pull on her lab coat as she moved toward her computer.

"No, you administer the allergy shots," Black pulled her away from the work station and steered her in the right direction. "I'll start the medical notices." He shoved a handful of data pads into her hands and nudged her toward the first patient.

It was unfortunate that she had to handle Reed on an empty stomach. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized to him breathlessly as she juggled the pads.

"It isn't a problem," he lied through gritted teeth.

She checked her list. "Bromelin, right? Computer, continue audio playback from Andie's quarters." Soft strings filled the room. She filled a hypo with quick hands and pressed it into Malcolm's neck.

"May I offer a suggestion?" Malcolm just knew he was going to regret making this offer. As soon as he spoke, she tensed up and frowned. Already she was looking for ways to reject his offer.

"What suggestion would that be?" She queried briskly, keeping her hands busy with work.

"You should take this moment as an opportunity to present yourself to the department as the Chief Medical Officer. It will set you apart from the friendly crewman they've come to know." _Particularly when you set a bad example by being late and disheveled_, he thought, although he kept that part to himself.

"I _am_ the Chief Medical Officer."

"Temporary. Acting. Chief Medical Officer," he corrected her through gritted teeth.

"I've been in charge of medical labs before," she mentioned inattentively, making notes in her pad. She seemed to be distracted. "I'll be fine. It's kind of you to worry about me."

Keeping his temper was another problem, but he was determined to do it, so he ignored her facetious tone. "I was not aware that you had some command experience," he said evenly. "This transition should be relatively easy for you then." He was almost successful in keeping the sarcasm out of his voice.

"It should," she remarked absently. Her head turned to peer through the gauze curtain as someone out there exerted an especially loud sigh of impatience. "Normally I would ask you to sit here for a few minutes to make certain there are no ill effects with the allergy shots, but I'm already running late this morning. Would you like to be excused?"

"I would," he agreed with relief, already scooting off the table and onto his feet. He'd been taking the same medication for four years now and had never suffered any undue effects.

"Try to work in someplace where people can see you and come back immediately if you feel ill at all." She stepped back to allow him to stand, already glancing down at her next assignment. "I'll try to be more punctual next time."

After she'd just done him a favor, it seemed wrong to continue to snub her. "Mozart?" Malcolm queried as she continued to be lost in paperwork.

Andie looked up with no idea what he meant.

"I never would have guessed that you were so cultured," he told her in a slightly warmer tone as he indicated the soft strings that were piped in through the speakers in the medical ward.

"I have culture coming out of my ass," she noted with a small grin, acknowledging his teasing for what it was. "Now, go away. You're bothering me." She shooed him away playfully with her data pad and moved to the next bed.

A little more than an hour later, the last patient waited for her behind the last curtained enclosure. Before slipping inside, Andie paused to call out to her nurse, who was just finishing up the last chart. "Ensign Black, I'd like you to make your way to the quartermaster and request several more data pads, the large ones, if you please. We're going to need them."

"For what, ma'am?" Black queried. He had known that sigh of relief at seeing the end of the early morning rush of people and paperwork had been premature.

"I'd like to conduct a full and complete inventory of all medical supplies on board this ship. We'll need the pads for counting," she told him as though this was perfectly ordinary.

"We conducted a full inventory before we left space dock," Ian pointed out. He wasn't looking forward to tidying up the normally orderly room that currently appeared as though a hurricane had hit it, and this new idea was sure to be time consuming and physically intensive. "And that was only a couple of months ago."

"Good, then you remember how it's done," she agreed without backing down. "And call me Doctor. Scoot!" she shooed him away, ignoring his irritated sighs as she pulled back the final curtain.

* * *

Trip rubbed a hand over his tired eyes as the last of his crew scurried into Main Engineering with a darted look of apology. Word got around; Andie had arrived late to work and was responsible for the ensuing tardiness of the crew. He couldn't blame her. That tale she told him last night had kept him awake long after she'd retired to her own quarters, and he was dragging through the day.

_The world was supposed to be getting better! How could things keep happening in the world to make them worse?_ Every day seemed to be one more tragedy; each encounter brought more heartache. He wondered how she could drag herself out of bed every day.

More listless than usual he handed out the day's assignments and sent his people to their work stations. At least T'Pol had heard the same story. Andie told him if he needed someone to talk to that he could consult either Archer or T'Pol. The Vulcan always offered him serene and thoughtful advice. The mere thought of consulting with her made him perk up. He felt a twinge of shame when he remembered the trouble he took to make T'Pol think he had a date last night.

Lizzie had always been taken care of. He made sure that her dates always got a good look at him, in order to scare them into treating her right. Trip couldn't imagine a world where Andie had nobody to look after her. And then she was dropped right in the middle of the definition of hell and expected to get along just fine. Just recently T'Pol had expected to pay a social visit to her mother and had been caught in an actual civil war as well, although the two incidences hardly seemed similar. T'Pol's mother had died, but at least the Vulcan was old enough to understand the reasons for it, and had people around her to share her loss. Remembering how hard his sister's death had hit him, he thought it probably didn't matter how old you were. Tragedies like that were never easy. That was the moment he realized he hadn't checked on T'Pol lately, or asked about her mental health. It was just one more sign that his world, still shaken on its axis from the terrible might of the Xindi, was still wobbling off-kilter. Trip shook his head and caught Hess looking at him with a concerned expression.

"You okay, sir?" she inquired politely. "You've just been standing there."

"I'm fine, thanks," he nodded. Rubbing a hand over his face one more time, he picked up a tool kit and prepared to climb into the inner workings of the ship to make some minor repairs and run a few diagnostics. It was all the work he thought he could handle for one day.

* * *

"Can't you do something?" Ensign Ian Black begged his friend Crewman Rostov. The men sat at a table for four in the Mess Hall at lunch time, although there were only three in their party.

"I don't know what you think I can do for you," Michael Rostov answered again. Ian had come out of Sickbay complaining about his new supervisor and Rostov was already out of sympathy for him, being freshly out from under the thumb of the odious Lt. Kelby.

"She's gone power mad!" Black insisted. "If you could talk to Commander Tucker for me, I'm sure he might be able to step in and rein her back!"

"I don't know," Travis Mayweather broke in with a mouth full. "I think a complete inventory will be extremely beneficial." He earned a dirty look for his trouble.

"We took inventory just a couple months ago when we left space dock!" Black repeated his protest.

"Since then a lot has happened," Mayweather pointed out, using his fork to punctuate his statement, and dribbling a spicy red sauce on the table for his trouble.

Rostov added "And she's new. She probably wants to make certain you're not an idiot and can count higher than your fingers and toes." His wide grin took the sting out of his words.

"Ha ha," Black snorted, unruffled by the teasing. "It's unreasonable! We're still recovering from a ship wide illness!" His curly black hair was more agitated than usual from all the finger brushing he'd been doing today out of frustration.

"She's the chief medical officer," Mayweather pointed out.

"Temporary. Acting. Chief." Black pointed out. "If she's not going to take the fragile health of the crew seriously then someone else should take over. Someone who won't need a week's worth of counting bandages right away."

"It's not like you're going to enjoy the task more if you do it later," Mayweather muttered, but Black would not be deterred.

"Mike, come on! You work for Tucker and she's got a personal relationship with him. You can help me exert influence on him to exert influence over her to stop this madness!" Even Ian had to wonder at his adamant insistence that Andie be removed to the point where he was close to tarnishing the reputation of the chief engineer as well. It's not like she called for ship-wide floggings! She was just settling in. There was something off-putting about her although he couldn't put his finger on it. He wasn't certain how he'd feel in the following days carrying out the orders of a woman who barely reached his shoulders when she stood up straight.

"What personal relationship?" Rostov inquired quietly after looking around to make sure they were still relatively unnoticed and Mayweather grew still just waiting to hear the answer.

"Someone saw her leaving his quarters early this morning," Ian admitted, wondering if he'd gone too far. "She had an empty bottle and he looked tuckered out, if you know what I mean." He thought about slapping his face to stop him from uttering anything further. Clearly his mouth didn't think he'd gone far enough and was happy to jump in and help hang him. Ian tried snapping his jaws shut, hard enough to make his ears ring. Just to be cautious, he shoved food into his mouth as well.

"Who saw her leaving his quarters?" Rostov asked, curious. "I thought he liked T'Pol?"

"Doesn't matter," Mayweather interjected with finality, sneaking a peek at the engineer dining at a nearby table with the armory officer. "Whatever they do is their business and not ours." He shoved another mouthful of food and chewed it while trying to look wiser than his years. It may have been his authoritative air, or maybe the crowded room but the other men lowered their volume.

"Even if she has some pull over him, it doesn't mean that I have the same influence," Rostov attacked his food with determination, but Ian stopped him before the fork reached his mouth.

"If anybody can get to the bottom of this, you can!" Black begged. "Look! He's going for more lemonade! Sidle up to him at the beverage dispenser and make it seem casual!" His thin arms actually pulled Rostov's chair out from the table with the large man still sitting on it.

Rostov sighed. He wanted nothing more than to finish his chicken enchiladas but it didn't look like he was going to get the opportunity to do that in peace. Not until he talked to his commanding officer. With another heavy sigh, he rose and took his glass to the drinks dispenser, avoiding a collision as Commander Tucker turned around rather suddenly. The two men spoke briefly before Rostov nodded and stepped around to fill his own glass.

"What did he say?" Black wanted to know when the crewman returned. His lean elbows were practically planted in his tamale in his haste to find out.

"He said to bite his shiny white ass," Rostov told his friend as he dropped his napkin across his thigh.

"Really?" Black looked taken aback.

"No, not really," Mike rolled his eyes as Mayweather silently chortled in the background. "But he should have."

"What did he say?" Black was nearly bouncing up and down in anticipation.

"He said he'd think about it."

Across the room, Trip was explaining his predicament to Malcolm.

"A full and complete inventory," Malcolm mused as he toyed with his food. Perhaps she had been listening to him after all. He thought of her pointed reminder that she'd been in charge of a staff before and wondered if it was her own methodology at work. She did seem confident of her own abilities. Too confident perhaps, and that seemed to be a standard trait. He would have glowered at her from across the room but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Yeah, apparently they're about to mutiny," Trip nodded as he bit into his taco with false gusto. "I guess I should say something to her about going easy on the medical staff, at least until they get used to her being in charge." He wasn't certain he wanted to see her yet, but he felt weird about attempting to avoid her. Of course, he felt equally weird about confronting her.

"Do you really think that's wise?" Malcolm queried. "By suggesting that she cave in to their demands, you would be undermining her authority."

"You sound like you agree with her decision," Trip looked at Malcolm dubiously.

Malcolm stifled a grin. He hated to go so far as to agree with her on anything, but in this case her plan might actually be…right. It nearly hurt him to admit that, even inside his own head. "I do," he finally said out loud. "To change position from one of the workers to the leader is never an easy task. Asserting her authority on some simple tasks would make that distinction very quick and painless. It's actually a sensible tactical maneuver."

"She's being a pain in their butts on purpose?" Trip mused. He used his hands to scoop the filling from his taco off his plate and back inside the crisp tortilla shell. "I guess it would be wrong to step in then." Trip looked at Malcolm's expression. "It killed you a little to admit she might be right about somethin', didn't it?" The attempted joke was half-hearted at best, but it was all he could manage at the moment.

"More than you know," Malcolm admitted with a small grin. Inventory was a brilliant plan really. Everybody hated to do it, but it was the perfect opening. He wondered how he could implement a full inventory count in the armory without seeming that he was copying the doctor. "Of course, now that you've decided to accept the task of speaking to the doctor, you've set an uncomfortable standard for the rest of the crew. There's no telling what they might ask you to do on her behalf in the future." His persistent needling of the engineer did not instigate the usual repartee he'd come to expect. It was as though Trip's mind were elsewhere.

Trip thought he might do a lot on her behalf, especially given what he now knew about her. Although any woman who could survive a full-scale civil war and thrive in an environment like Eckta's Reef probably didn't need much in the way of assistance. But in the interest of peace on board the ship he might make an attempt. There's no telling how many boots she might plant up however many asses before she was finished asserting her authority. She might need an extra hand with all the beatings she might administer; he stifled the chuckle that threatened to escape his lips. The rest of his lunch hour was spent in a more pleasant frame of mind as he and Reed contemplated what his response to Rostov's request on Ensign Black's behalf should be. Thoughts of helping her actually gave him the perfect idea.

Both men paused in their exit from the lunch hall, right next to Rostov's shoulder. "Good luck with that inventory today, fellas!" Trip pasted on a wide smile for the table in general before he slapped Rostov heartily on the shoulder. "And thanks for volunteering to help them out in Sickbay today! That is above and beyond the call of duty!"

"I…what?" Rostov almost choked on his flan.

"Your expression of concern that the medical staff might be overwhelmed was an excellent one. You can help out by assisting the inventory count down there. As a matter of fact, I'll walk you to Sickbay m'self in a minnit. Let me go tell Hess that you'll be reassigned this afternoon." Trip squeezed his engineer's shoulder tightly as he led Malcolm out the door. Malcolm did his part to remain straight faced until they were out in the corridor.

At the table, Rostov shot Black a very dirty look. Travis snorted with laughter around a mouthful of his third burrito as Black scurried away from his irritated friend.

* * *

Andie looked up from her work as Ian Black slipped into the medical ward shortly after the lunch hour. She waved him over when he snuck a glance her way. Leaving Lt. Truax with a leech pulsing at her neck, the doctor drew the curtain around the resting patient and faced her nurse, the sole voice of rebellion among the ranks of her newly acquired troops. Actually there may have been more dissension; Black's petulance simply made the loudest noise.

"I'd like you to count the tongue depressors this afternoon," she announced calmly.

"I've finished the tongue depressors," he said with certainty. He wanted to get out of the room before Rostov showed up.

Andie tilted her head way back to look him directly in the eye. "The count is inaccurate. I'd like you to count them again." She was extremely calm when she handed the pad back to him. She'd skipped lunch and her head was pounding. It was the only reason she wasn't shouting at him.

Being a tall, slender man, he towered over her slight form, but still he had to resist the urge to step back from her, even with her more reasonable tone. There was something uncomfortable in her eyes. "It is accurate!" he insisted.

"So how come the number you've listed on this pad is significantly different than the number I counted with my own two hands?" She looked up and stared at him, bluffing her way through her instinctive guess that he had short-handed some of the work.

"You counted the tongue depressors?" Ensign Black was surprised. Dread was beginning to form a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. He just spent the better part of an hour telling Rostov and Mayweather why he was better qualified to look after the department for the short time that Phlox would be gone. He had a sudden qualm that he had been incorrect.

"If I didn't know better, I'd suggest that you created a number out of thin air and injected it into this report because you don't believe an inventory is worthy of your time." Her voice was still very calm and it was making the hair rise all over his curly-headed body.

"Doc…I…" Ian fell silent. Her cool expression made him wish for a coat.

"It would be a shame to present these findings to the captain and explain that you ignored a direct request by your superior and falsified medical information on a task that you deemed less important. Unless you can think of a third option…."

"Cutler could do it," he suggested, thinking very hard of ways to get around this.

"Cutler is working on something else for me," Andie sighed. Cat and mouse games made her tired. "I know you don't think this is a necessary procedure…" she started to explain it all again, feeling like she'd lost the upper hand by trying to cajole him into doing his work.

"We've just got the crew back on their feet again!" Ian burst out. "It seems ridiculous to engage them with such a physically demanding task so soon! The crew should be resting!"

The double doors swished open and Andie whirled around with a frown.

Trip didn't look frightened at all, but he did eye the scene with some interest. "I'm here to make sure Rostov reports for duty, Doc," he smirked. Rostov was not any happier with his lunch companion after listening to Tucker lecture at him for several minutes in the corridor outside Engineering and was still shooting daggers at Black with his eyes.

"Report for what duty?" Andie snapped, shoving her hair back from her eyes with her hand.

"Rostov would love to help out with the inventory counts," Trip assured her. "Anything you need, you'll get from me." He tried to convey his sincere friendship and solidarity to her with his eyes, but only succeeding in making Andie wonder if he'd come down with a headache.

Cranial pressure gave the doctor an idea. A crafty look passed over Andie's features shortly before the storm of her temper evaporated into a gentle breeze instantly. "That's wonderful!" She enthused, clapping her hands together. "I wish I could use him, but Ensign Black here just volunteered to do the entire inventory by himself!"

"He did?" Three men looked surprised to hear that, none more than the nurse at her side.

"He did," Andie nodded firmly with a serious look at her pale complexioned foe. "He's very worried about the continued recovery of the crew and does not wish to over-exert them. He's going to do all the counting by himself today." Another sly grin crept across her face as she snapped her fingers with inspiration. "Come to think of it, I do have a task for Crewman Rostov!"

"You do?" Only the engineers seemed surprised at that. Black was gazing at the ceiling as though divine intervention could be summoned at will.

"One of my hand held scanners is acting…weird. Would you be so kind as to fix it?" She actually batted her eyes coquettishly when she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Rostov agreed enthusiastically. "Let me just go get a calibrator…."

"Oh no," Andie shook her head with false regret. "I'm taking a valuable resource from Engineering when I steal _you_ away from Commander Tucker. I certainly can't take away any of his _equipment_ as well."

"How do you expect me to verify your scanners?" Rostov asked. He knew it was a bad idea to ask as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I expect you can do it manually," she smiled sweetly. "You know how to do that, right?"

"Which scanner is it?" Mike sighed with frustration.

"Golly, I just…I don't remember." Her eyes were as wide as the deep blue sea.

"You expect me to check all of the hand scanners in Sickbay without a calibrator?" Rostov felt his day stretching out to eternity.

"No, I expect you to check all the hand held scanners _on the ship_ without a calibrator," she confirmed, nodding vigorously. "I can't recall which scanner it was." She tapped her index finger against her cheek as though thinking very hard on the matter. "Very silly of me to forget."

"Do you have any idea how long that would take?" Rostov reeled from the shock.

"Yes." Andie dropped the pretense of politeness as she smiled sweetly at him, although chips of ice seemed to reside in her gaze. "Yes I do. Also, I did not spend eight years in medical school so you could short change me on my title. I am not a 'ma'am'. I'm a doctor. Please remember that," she added cheerily.

"Better get started," Tucker slapped the younger man on his shoulder to get him moving. Rostov stumbled away with a dazed look on his face, passing by Ensign Black who still held a handful of tongue depressors and a data pad. The doctor glared in his direction, prompting Black to action.

"I'll double check the numbers here, Doctor," Ian gulped, gripping the thin sticks tightly. He disappeared into the back, following Rostov with his head down.

Trip looked at the little doctor. "How come you didn't tell me your hand scanners weren't working? I'd'a come right down to fix 'em." _Now he felt guilty about her hand scanners!_ His head was beginning to hurt again.

"Don't be silly, Tucker," she blew off his concerns with a careless wave of her hand. "It won't be broken until he's done fixin' all the others."

A chuckle burst forth that he had no control over. "You've got a mean streak," Trip told her.

"You have no idea," Andie purred. She pulled a PADD out of her pocket. "Show me how to break this without damaging it."

It didn't take long to show her how to pop the casing open and detach a few wires at the back. "That'll take him a while to figure out," Trip assured her.

"Thanks," Andie grunted as she replaced the wires and the casing and dropped the PADD in her pocket. She stifled a yawn so big it made her eyes water.

"You okay?" Trip asked solicitously.

"I'm fine," she assured him easily.

"You sure? You're not feeling especially bad today…or anything?"

There was something extra in his tone, a certain tremor of pity that she recognized. Her expression hardened quickly. "I should never have told you anything," she growled in frustration. "I told Archer it was a bad idea."

"Actually you should have told me a long time ago!" Trip burst out, he looked around at the seemingly empty room before lowering his voice again. "I could'a helped you!"

"Helped me with what?" she demanded. "Everything that happened to me occurred a long time ago. I don't need your help with anything." She relented slightly at his stricken expression. "I'm the same person I was yesterday, Tucker. The difference is that you know more about me today. It's all just dirty laundry. It doesn't matter."

"Obviously the captain thought it mattered," Trip challenged.

Andie muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

"What was that?" he demanded. He thought he heard the words 'horse's ass' in there somewhere.

"I said, Archer was mistaken," she lied stiffly.

Trip was certain that was not what she'd muttered, but he let it go. "Well if you feel like sharin' anything else while you're on board, you be sure and lemmee know, all right?" he snorted indignantly. Then he turned on his heel and stomped out of the medical ward.

"Aye, aye, Chief!" She slapped a hand to her forehead in a mocking salute. Andie watched him go and rubbed her forehead to soothe the tension away before noticing that Truax had pulled back the curtain around her alcove and was watching her. "Is there a problem?" she asked solicitously, attending the armory officer.

"I think it's sleeping," Truax stated, waving gingerly at the annelid resting peacefully against the former hole in her neck.

Dr. Andie checked the invertebrate and the wound with her scanner and smiled. "That's good news for you," she assured the lieutenant. "You'll be back on regular duties shortly."

Truax just smiled noncommittally and remained silent. She nodded politely when she was dismissed and headed back to her quarters.

The doctor didn't have time to wonder what Barbra may or may not have heard before flopping back into her chair and staring at the computer screen until a sudden beeping called her attention away from her current predicament once again.

* * *

"Well how the hell'm I supposed to react?" Trip's voice raised another octave. Luckily he and his companions were having dinner in the Captain's Mess and the sound didn't carry to the rest of the Mess Hall.

"I thought it would be a good idea if you knew what you were up against," Archer said in what he hoped was a reasonable and soothing tone of voice. The fervor of his friend's ire was beyond his comprehension and he was trying his best to pacify him.

"Up against? You make it sound like she's some kind of enemy to overcome!" Trip shot back. He hadn't touched his steamed salmon and only using his fork to jab rice pilaf into neat piles and mounds.

"Understanding the people you work with can be very beneficial to your working environment," Jon stated carefully. That was something that both Admiral Forrest and Gardiner had said to him on more than one occasion. "Try to make an effort."

The engineer just turned around on T'Pol who sat in her accustomed place silently watching the spectacle. "You have anything to add to this discussion?" Trip demanded to know.

T'Pol finished swallowing the morsel of food before answering with equal care. "Several questions about Dr. Brainerd's skills were answered with the reveal of her history."

"You were worried about her skills? What'd she ever do to make you question that?" Trip jumped on the statement as though it was a juicy steak.

"Her knowledge of several languages, her dexterity with other cultures, even her familiarity with the Azorian people was a curiosity. I understand her better now." _Which was more than she could say for the human engineer at any rate_, she thought without speaking. Sitting here in this stifling environment, in this small room was almost more than she could bear. She already missed the hot, dry air of the Vulcan desert. Trip's futile rage was uncomfortably close.

Blue eyes darted from one superior officer to the other. Tucker felt trapped and felt frantic to get out of the little room that had suddenly become claustrophobic. One man had no right to make that kind of life-altering choice about another person without their permission, but André Brainerd had just snatched up his daughter and changed her life forever. Just like the Xindi had changed his life on the basis of false information without even talking to Earth first. The fight left him and his shoulders slumped. "You think its okay that nobody at Starfleet thought it pertinent to tell us about her before she got here?" he wondered glumly, poking his yellow squash into a paste.

"It is possible that Starfleet Command believed that she would be unfairly judged by her previous actions," T'Pol uttered in a room that had suddenly gone silent. She would have unfairly judged her own mother for joining in the rebel group known as the Syrannites if she had not spent time speaking with her mother before her recent death.

Without Trip's tirade, the room fell awkwardly silent as each member contemplated the new set of problems that might arise from their recently gained knowledge. Trip pretended to eat, T'Pol sipped her tea slowly and Archer pondered the question she had brought up. While he could understand why Starfleet might not want to advertise the doctor's background shenanigans, it didn't make any sense that they would not have sent a priority and secret message to him to prepare him for the new addition. A new addition that had been thrust upon him by Starfleet brass, not requested by his own hand, he remembered.

Her past as well as her presence continued to be something of an oddity. Dinner in the Captain's Mess Hall continued in relative silence.

* * *

Later that night, Reed thought that the doctor might finally have a few moments to spare and proceeded to Sickbay hoping that they might be able to have a quiet conversation to straighten out a few details. She wasn't in the medical lab. Feeling a bit uncertain, he tapped on the door to Phlox's office. When there was no answer, he used a computer to sort out her whereabouts. The computer seemed determined that the doctor was in the office adjacent to the medical ward. Reed knocked again, using the intercom to announce his presence. She still didn't answer.

Ignoring the way the hair rose on the back of his neck, he determined that there could be two possibilities: either she was ignoring him or she was not able to answer the door. Assault might be one reason for the latter; sleep might be a second, and more likely, candidate.

Out of frustration, he rang the chime again. This time the door opened. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her scrubs were wrinkled, but there didn't seem to be any further disturbance to her usually rumpled appearance. Unless you counted the big glob of matter dribbled on the bottom of her pant leg, he noted. Clear, viscous substances were not unusual in these quarters and he was pretty certain that he did not want to know what it was. Malcolm pulled himself upright and began with a greeting.

"May I have a few words with you, Doctor?"

"Are you feeling ill?" she inquired, unable to stop rubbing the bridge of her nose in exhaustion.

"No, I was hoping we might discuss a few things…"

_He told!_ Andie was certain of it, and she was in no mood to continue the sordid little tale one more time today. "Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow then?" she asked resentfully.

"Actually…" Reed was all set to protest, but his eyes caught something in the background. A blanket was casually thrown over the back of the red leathery sofa in Phlox's office and topped with a pillow. It was clear that she intended to sleep here overnight, probably to be close to any medical incidents that might occur during the night of her first full day without Phlox. "Tomorrow would be fine," he amended quickly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she agreed with relief. Her fingers were sticky from the epoxy she'd been using and she intended to have a long talk with Mags about that when next she returned to Earth. Luckily the blanket she'd found had been large enough to cover up the item she didn't want anyone to see. If Reed had come in, he would surely have noticed it.

"Sleep well," he acknowledged faintly, backing away from the door. He returned slowly to his quarters, pondering her deep and abiding sense of medical duty.

He managed to lie awake long into the night contemplating other tasks that he had performed with less attention to duty. Sleep did not come easily for him. He was going to have to have this talk with her sooner or later.

Little did he know that it was not her medical duty that kept her awake most of that evening.

* * *

Dinner the next evening was a special treat; Chef had pulled out all the stops and offered a tantalizing selection of sushi and sashimi cuisine. Hoshi manipulated her chopsticks with casual dexterity, grinning over Tucker's slightly clumsier attempts at wielding the twin sticks with efficiency.

"I can't believe you were ever good enough to make fun of T'Pol's usage," she giggled as Trip dropped a slippery lobster roll for the third time, before simply spearing it with the tip of one of the cultural utensils and lifting it to his mouth.

"I think Chef put an extra dash of peanut oil on the fish," Trip insisted. "It's not sticky enough to stay on my chopsticks." He dropped the sticks altogether and opted for a fork instead.

The doors swept open and Lt Reed swept in. He filled a plate with food and turned, perusing the room slowly as though assessing dangers from the crew.

"Malcolm!" Trip waved Reed over.

The lieutenant nodded but finished his scan of the room before settling in at Trip and Hoshi's table. "Good evening," he greeted them respectfully, laying a napkin across his lap.

"You lookin' for anyone in particular?" Trip asked, shoveling a forkful of rice into his mouth.

Malcolm took his time sliding the chopsticks out of their sanitary paper slips and tapping them together before dipping them into his mixed vegetables with an expertise that Trip envied. The smallest portion of grain remained respectfully on the tip of Reed' chopstick until it was swept into his mouth and washed down with a glass of water. "I wanted to speak to Ensign Higgins about the torpedo launcher," he finally announced with a sigh. "The aft launcher has not been functioning at maximum efficiency and when I finally got down there this afternoon, I discovered the fungal elements had gummed up the spinning mechanism and had to be cleaned out by hand with medical contagion protocols." He looked down at his dinner with a slight grimace. "Then after a hard day's work I discover that dinner consists of bait."

Hoshi stopped in the act of biting into her shrimp at his words, frowning slightly at her dinner instead.

"I can't continue with repairs until the doctor designates the area as a safe environment," he fumed, consuming his food quickly, ignorant of the way he'd accidentally put the ensign off her food.

"I haven't seen the doctor all day," Trip confessed. The raw fish suddenly rolled uncomfortably in his stomach. He was still avoiding her.

"She hasn't been to the Mess all day," Hoshi announced. At the surprised looks the gentlemen gave her, she shrugged. "Chef likes me. He tells me stuff sometimes."

"I hope she's not wasting away," Reed responded politely.

"He says he sent her a lunch tray," she answered, lifting her shrimp again with relish.

"I should hope so," Reed continued to grouse. "Crewman Moreno was a few minutes late to his shift and he announced it was the doctor's tender mercies that made him so. She'll have to learn to keep to a tighter schedule if she's going to make it up to dinner over the next few days."

"Days?" Trip interjected. "Days before Phlox returns? I thought it was going to be more like weeks?"

"Weeks?" Reed exclaimed.

"It depends on how well he reacts to the treatments the Denobulans can provide," Hoshi offered informatively. "Dr. Ezme thinks he's doing quite well."

"You've heard from the Denobulans already?" Reed inquired. Suddenly he was all ears.

"Just a quick note to tell us that they'd arrived without incident," she answered. "He won't begin treatment until the Guild can take a closer look at him."

"I hope he has a speedy recovery," Reed nodded. Across the room he noticed Ensign Higgins sitting with several other women. "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak to someone." He rose and crossed the room while Hoshi and Trip continued with their meal.

"If Andie's not taking her meals up here, I hope Chef remembered to send a tray down for dinner." Hoshi was concerned about the doctor. She remembered what it was like to feel overwhelmed by her job and far away from everything familiar on Earth at the same time. It could be nerve wracking. "Maybe I'll stop by after dinner."

"That'd be nice," Trip murmured. He twirled a chopstick between his callused fingers. "I ought to get back to work." He pushed back from his table, fortuitously leaving a space open for the newly arrived Ensign Shannen to fill. Hoshi greeted her fellow communications operator warmly.

* * *

The second day had started off much the same way as the first. Having stayed late in Sickbay the night before, Andie had come through the double doors at a run, finding Mazaro waiting for her to work her magic with the dermal regenerator on his neck wound. The ensign was never one to spend a lot of time in idle chitchat and so the doctor got right to work. There was a long list of appointments for the crew waiting to see the doctor to get permission to return to full duties, and Andie was kept busy all day.

Crewman Cutler had put together a detailed report at Andie's request on all the creatures in Phlox's care, including meals and grooming procedures, in addition to keeping track of the individual science experiments with which Phlox filled up his free time. Andie remained in the ward all afternoon to familiarize herself with both reports. Chef sent down a bowl of soup, but it had been consumed many hours ago.

It was growing late when the double doors swished open and Ensign Sato entered, holding a tray.

"Can I help you, Hoshi?" Andie asked, leaning back in her chair to peek at the Comm. officer.

"I was going to ask you the same question," Hoshi grinned. She set down the tray and picked up a soggy leaf, which she added to one of the cages that littered Sickbay. Something inside grumbled and shook, then fell to silent munching. "Chef was wondering when you were going to pick up the creature's tray."

Andie sighed. "I guess I forgot about feeding the menagerie," she admitted. Rising she joined the other woman and they continued to drop food stuffs in the variety of glass and wire structures. "Thanks for stopping by." The doctor pulled a drawer out of the small stasis unit and removed a tray of vegetation, which she began to add to some of the other cages.

"There's a lot of pressure when you're learning on the job," Hoshi went on. "I had a hard time when I first came on board. I found that leaning on the crew helped me get through it. T'Pol was especially helpful."

The doctor looked ruefully amused as she rose from setting down a bowl of feline supplement in front of an imperious orange nose. "Are you giving me a pep talk or considering reporting me to the first officer?" She nudged Jojo toward her own bowl with a gentle toe when the female seemed inclined to steal from her male counterpart.

"A little pep never hurt anyone," Hoshi flushed at getting caught.

"I appreciate the offer. I just need to get settled," Andie sighed. She added a leaf to a growling cage, looking around wistfully. "I never realized just how much Phlox does everyday. He makes it look so easy."

"Well, he doesn't sleep much," Hoshi admitted. "That goes in the other cage," she reminded the physician.

The moment was interrupted as the double doors swished open again to admit Ensign Cutler, carrying two cups of something that steamed. She saw Hoshi there and audibly gulped. "I didn't know you had a patient, Doc," she turned to exit.

"No worries," Andie called out. "Hoshi just stopped by to wish me luck."

Cutler turned around. "Oh, I …uh, I brought a fresh cup of coffee," she stammered. "I didn't know if you could use a refill."

"That's very thoughtful of you," Andie smiled, taking the mug. "Thank you for the reports you left on my desk. I was just going over them."

The double doors swished open again, allowing Corporal Parsons to enter. "Hey! I just…" She noticed the other two ladies and changed the last part of her sentence. "…didn't know there'd be a crowd. We're going to need a bigger plate." She held a plate with a pile of oatmeal cookies as she took in what was turning into a crowd of females loitering in the medical ward.

They all began giggling at the same time. "Now it's a party!" Andie announced, taking the plate and setting it down on a table. "Thank you," she said with honest sincerity. Now that the creatures had all been fed, there was a lessening of the restless noise that had grown in volume. Andie felt like she could think clearly. "Hey, Ian!" She waited until he poked his head out of the alcove where he chose to work. "That count will wait until tomorrow. Go home. I'll get some extra help from the science department tomorrow if you have no objections."

"That would be great, Doc. Thanks! And good night!" He solemnly dashed out the door as though he was afraid she might change her mind. He was followed by another rash of giggles at his plight.

* * *

Just about an hour after dinner Reed entered the medical ward once more. He tried not to cringe when he entered the room; his personal phobia of doctors was nobody's business but his own. However, in spite of the hour, the doctor was not alone. She had drawn a few chairs into a circle and several females giggled and sipped beverages and snacked on goods procured from the Mess Hall. It made his appearance here more uncomfortable than necessary.

He almost walked back out.

"Can I help you, Lieutenant?" Andie inquired. She excused herself and moved to stand closer to Reed, dreading the talk that he so desperately wanted to have. If she hadn't been avoiding him, she would have sent the ladies home by now, but she was hoping their cheerful presence would preclude any deep and disturbing conversations he might wish to incite.

He could feel his cheeks flaming as he leaned forward and whispered his distress in her ear. Andie was relieved to find his presence here was a medical one after all; spicy cuisine did not sit well in his stomach.

For his concern that she might announce his disturbance to one and all, Reed felt guilty. She just nodded and gestured at him to follow her. Inside the privacy of the doctor's office, with its solid walls and closed door, she administered a hypo spray that settled the contents of his stomach in seconds.

Reed forced a polite grin. No matter what had passed between them before, she seemed content to be polite and cheery and not mention anything else. "Thank you for attending to the aft torpedo launcher with such prompt diligence," he forced the words out. The report clearing the launcher of any residual fungal outbreak had been on his desk in the Armory when he had returned from dinner. Obviously she had skipped a meal to attend to his request.

"No worries," she accepted his gratitude nonchalantly. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you," he acknowledged. They stepped out of the office and Reed could hear the ladies chortling over some tidbit of gossip with much amusement. "He's crazy!" Cutler giggled, and Parsons slapped her on the back, unable to comment further if her laughter-reddened face was any indication.

Perhaps it was just Reed's imagination, but he thought they sobered up instantly upon seeing him re-enter the room. The sparkling eyes, the lips clamped tightly closed, and the lack of any other noise reminded Reed of times when his little sister would have friends sleep over. They always seemed to burst into giggles when he was around, and clam up when he stopped to greet them. The crewwomen aboard his vessel were doing the same thing to him now.

Malcolm nodded politely and exited the room swiftly, wondering which male on board might have garnered such attention. He was concerned that the attention-getter might be him.

_Dr. Andie wouldn't have said anything about his medical or psychiatric status, would she? _

It was another restless night for Malcolm Reed.


	55. Chapter 55

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 55

* * *

Two more days had passed since Phlox's departure. T'Pol remained in her quarters long after she'd finished her morning meditation and ablutions. The first officer preferred the quiet of her own accommodations in order to finish a few reports that would be due soon. She was surprised by the door chime. The human crew was accustomed to lingering in bed much longer than Vulcans. It was an even greater surprise to find Commander Tucker at her door. He was a man who treasured his sleep more than almost anything else, second only to his engine.

"Is there any way to turn this ship around and find her dad and bring him up on charges without it seeming like I'd completely lost my mind?" he asked quietly, leaning against the portal as though the portal could sustain his weight when all other foundations no longer could. He'd been mulling the problem over all night long. He felt like he hadn't slept at all.

T'Pol knew he was serious; his voice was low and soft and contained few traces of his usual southern drawl. "What charges would you bring?" she inquired. She had no trouble discerning where his focus lay.

"Child endangerment?" he suggested hopefully.

"Your request is not possible," she answered carefully.

"How can you accept this so easily?" he wondered desperately leaning back against the wall.

The Vulcan stepped past him and began her morning walk to the Mess Hall. The early hour meant the corridors were nearly cleared of personnel. Trip fell into step with her, although he dragged his feet more than usual. She waited to answer until they exited the turbo-lift one floor down.

"There are many aspects of this human crew that were a mystery to me when I first came aboard. Over time I have learned more about humanity and many of those aspects became familiar to me, although others continue to remain a mystery. Are you more troubled about her childhood or by the fact that you were kept unaware of her past?"

_That was a good question_, Trip admitted to himself. "I feel like my self-control is slipping through my hands like…desert sand," he admitted.

"Ah! Then it is not a serious problem. Your grasp on self-control has often been tenuous."

Trip raised an eyebrow as he hesitated to press the button that would allow them entrance to the dining room. "Are you makin' fun of me?" He thought that if she was, he wouldn't be terribly distressed about that either.

T'Pol declined to answer as she stifled a movement of her lips and pressed the button that he had not. "Before I worked on Earth I served Vulcan Intelligence. That is not something you knew before I came on board. Yet it does not trouble you, as does the historical timeline of the doctor."

The engineer pondered that as he followed her into the room. "Maybe because I know you're a stronger person because of the work you performed there. Or maybe because I know you were a fully functioning adult before you made the decision. The decision was yours to make; not something that occurred outside your control."

"Some things just are. If we cannot change them, we must accept them."

Trip was silent for a moment, taking his time to fill a mug with coffee. "How are you faring with things that can't be changed?" he changed the subject. He stepped aside to allow her access to the drinks dispenser.

The light scent of her tea tickled his nose as she stepped around him again. "I am meditating often and I am studying the Kir'Shara. My work has kept me busy."

"Koss all right with your work habits?" Trip couldn't stop the pang that hit his gut when he mentioned her husband. He couldn't imagine getting married because your parents said you had to, and then not living with your spouse for long periods of time. His distress was just a reaction to a cultural difference. He couldn't even convince himself of that.

"Koss is unconcerned with my work habits," T'Pol replied carefully. Her sudden marriage and equally sudden separation from her life-long intended was a source of emotional turmoil for her still, no matter how hard she tried to calm her feelings about it. Her marriage to Koss had been a convenience intended to save her mother, but it had been a relief as well to distance her emotions from the upheaval caused by the Xindi War. Not only had she given up her career to assist the humans, but she had become addicted to Trellium-D and started an illicit affair with the engineer. Her sense of identity and purpose, even her ability to see herself as Vulcan had suffered. Koss had been so calm, so certain of his place in her life and their union that T'Pol had agreed to it, rather than indulge in any more of the suddenly unwanted human fantasies of passion. She was already hanging on to her Vulcan identity by her fingernails.

T'Pol realized she'd been silent for some time, but had managed to follow the engineer to a table and sit down without incident. She'd been holding her mug of tea up to her mouth as though drinking deeply. Trip didn't seem to notice; he was consumed with his coffee. As he was occupied, she studied his profile. His eyes were clear blue, like the alien Earth sky. His cheeks were warm and pink, not pallid or pasty with the recent fever. Except for the shadows under his eyes, he was returned to his usual health. The last time T'Pol could remember him looking this healthy, he'd been repairing her mother's appliances. He had that kindness in him, just as Koss was kind to want to keep her safe. Koss didn't deserve her uncertainty or the taint their failed marriage would bring on Vulcan, once it was officially over.

"Just make yourself available to her, in times when she might need to confide in you," T'Pol uttered softly. She couldn't be sure which female she meant and dropped her eyes to her bowl of plomeek broth as though just now noticing its presence.

Trip just looked at her with a carefully veiled expression, atypical of his customary gregarious nature. "I'll do that," he agreed softly. He rose, clutching his empty mug. With a quiet word, he exited the room, depositing his dirty cup in the basin designed for such things, and headed back to Engineering where the only troubled dark eyes that would linger on his mind were the ones that belonged to Crewman Rostov, who feared returning to inventory duty in Sickbay.

The only thing he deduced from his talk with T'Pol was that women weren't really his specialty. Trip thought he might learn a thing or two from them though. That's why he gave Rostov the job of picking the movie for the evening, although he limited the choice to a select handful. Hoshi and Hess had both been harping at him to diversify the movie offerings, and get something romantic for a change. He grinned at Rostov's pale face; the dark-haired engineer knew he'd get all the "credit" for this particular film.

* * *

At his regularly scheduled appointment hour, Reed slipped into Sickbay for his second round of allergy shots, expecting to find a line of people waiting on the doctor. However, he was surprised to find the physician already at work. She was leaning back in her chair at a work station while sipping coffee from a thermal mug and perusing his medical chart when he walked in. Soft music was piped into the room through the speakers. He thought it might be a Vulcan lute, but he couldn't recognize the piece.

"Morning, Reed," Andie greeted him by swinging her legs down off the table and resting them on the floor.

"Good morning, Doctor." He returned the greeting, thinking that they could probably finish the rest of her stint on board this ship carrying on such riveting dialogue without any harm.

She already had his hypo ready and had scanned him before he'd properly taken his seat on the bio-bed. Assuring herself that his body chemistry had not changed radically since the last time she'd taken his stats, she applied the hypo to his neck and smiled. "I let you go last time, but I'm not in such a good mood today. You make yourself comfortable for about twenty minutes."

"I'll be fine," Reed assured her, holding up the data pad that contained the professional security journal he intended to read as he waited.

"Excellent!" she beamed.

The double doors swished open and she stepped into the main ward, pulling the curtain closed around his bed. She needn't have bothered; after four years, he usually had his allergy treatment with the same people, and she needn't have bothered with secrecy.

However the new entrants were not the anticipated Crewmen Azim and Ross. They were two other young men.

"Good morning," Andie greeted them. Her form was just a faint outline behind the curtain. Reed tried to concentrate on his periodical.

"Morning, Doc!"

Reed glanced up. That voice belonged to the young ensign from engineering. His companion was similar in form and stature. Obviously Henry Bowman had offered to escort his bunkmate Tim Mazaro to see the doctor. Reed went back to his reading.

"If you've got a moment, I've got something you should probably take a look at," Henry babbled outside the filmy curtain as Tim got settled on his own bio-bed. "It's probably nothing, but I'd hate to distribute it to the rest of the crew."

"I can fit you in after breakfast," Andie offered tentatively, glancing at her scheduled patient.

"It won't take long!" Henry insisted.

"If you don't examine him now, he'll just linger and hover while you work," Tim added dourly. "I can wait. I'm not back on full duties yet anyway. I have nothing to do but wait." He sighed heavily, the sigh of a young man tired of lingering in his cabin by himself and anxious to get back to work.

Andie nodded and Henry hopped onto the bed next to Tim. Reed stopped pretending to read when he was obviously just eavesdropping; he watched the shadowy figures moving around outside his white filter. Henry remained sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs dangling down, leaving Andie to stand right in front of him. Their heads were almost touching. Reed wondered what sort of injury the boy had; it couldn't be anything obvious or Andie would have noticed right away without needing to lean in for a closer look.

"That looks serious, doesn't it?" Henry inquired nervously. "You said we should pay attention to any unfamiliar marks on our bodies, right?" Although the privacy curtain maintained the semblance of isolation, voices carried through the wispy fabric without hindrance.

"That's very serious, all right," Andie agreed. Reed thought there might be humor in her voice. "But it's treatable," she assured the young man. She patted his bunkmate on the ankle as she stepped into the pharmacy in the back to get the needed medication.

"You're an idiot!" Tim hissed at his bunkmate.

"No I'm not! I told you it would work!" Henry hissed back. "Shut up!"

The doctor's soft footfalls entered the room again and both young men hushed up. She stepped in front of Henry and applied something to his…arm, Reed thought.

"See? A little isopropyl took care of that right away," Andie announced. Reed was certain she was smiling although he couldn't make out her features from behind his flimsy wall. That medication sounded familiar; he wracked his brain trying to place the chemical.

"Thanks, Doc," Henry expressed his gratitude in a solemn, choked voice.

"I'd recommend staying clear of any more of the pointy objects, in all ranges of colors," she advised.

"Sure, Doc," Henry agreed, sounding chagrined. "Can I stay until Tim's done?"

Reed was certain she would allow it. He opened his mouth to interject but Tim's huff of air was louder than his. "I'm afraid not," Andie stated carefully. "His medical file is still confidential, even to roommates. He'll be done in time for breakfast, I'm sure."

"Right," Henry said in a glum tone as he slid off the bed. "See you later," he called to his friend as he dragged his feet over to the double doors that opened into the corridor beyond.

Something made a scraping sound against the floor. Andie dragged her stool over to Tim's bedside. A blue light filtered through the diaphanous curtain around Reed's bed as she applied the dermal regenerator to Mazaro's throat.

"I told him he was stupid," Mazaro grumbled.

"He's fine," she answered absently. "Don't move."

"He insisted on coming with me," Tim went on.

"It's not a problem," Andie reiterated. "Don't speak or I might sew your ear to your cheek."

"He's the only guy on board _immune_ to some crazy alien disease and he's upset that he gets left out! He's such a hypochondriac! I would _love_ to have been exempt from…"

"Tim?"

"Yes, Doc?"

"Shut up. I'm working. You don't want me to leave a scar, do you?"

Her voice was not as unkind as her words and the boy fell silent. By the time Andie was finished treating his throat, Reed's twenty minutes were up. He remained in his bed and waited to be released. The tactical officer heard her offer some reassurances about the young engineer's condition before she sent him back to his quarters. Tim Mazaro would remain on light-duty for now, much to the boy's frustration from the sound of it.

Andie had greeted both Azim and Ross as they arrived for their scheduled appointments. As soon as she had administered their hypo-sprays and began their twenty minute countdown, the doctor returned to Reed's bedside.

"You feeling funky?" she inquired lightly, running a medical scanner over his form and checking the read-outs with calm professionalism.

"I feel fine," he assured her.

"Then you're released," she told him, making a note in her medical log. "Looks like I won't see you again until next week."

Reed scooted to his feet before stopping in front of her. "What was wrong with that boy?" he inquired.

"What boy?" Andie repeated the question.

"Ensign Bowman," he clarified.

"That's none of your business," she told him softly.

"If he has a disease…"

"It was a red marker," she told Reed quietly so her voice wouldn't carry. "He thought it was a rash. It was just a dot. I cleaned it up with some rubbing alcohol."

"I think he's got a crush on you," Reed told her dubiously. He didn't know why that surprised him; she was reasonably attractive, even with her hair wrapped into a knot like it was.

"Who doesn't?" Andie answered airily. "You'd better get to work. I hear the tactical officer is a stickler for punctuality." One arm extended in the direction of the doorway. She was definitely sending him away before she made her way back to the bedside of those men still lingering in Sickbay.

Reed watched her for a moment before departing. Her entire demeanor had undergone a transformation in the last two days. Her scrubs were crisp, her hair was neatly coiled at the back of her neck and she wore a light blue lab coat. She was orderly, timely and professionally detached. He wondered what had taken her so long to get where she was. He exited the room to the sound of what was definitely one of the celebrated Vulcan lutists playing something quiet and soothing. Reed made a mental note to remember the composer in case he ever had trouble sleeping.

* * *

"So how are things with you?" Archer asked, sipping his iced tea over dinner in the Captain's Mess. It had been another uneventful day and he was feeling pretty good about that.

In spite of the amount of time he'd spent on this ship, Malcolm Reed would never get used to having meals with his superior officer as though they were just regular guys. He would always be nervous in the presence of the captain. "Everything is quite well," the tactical officer nodded, picking up his fork gingerly. "I think we'll have the phase cannons back to maximum efficiency within the next day or two."

"That's good news," Jon sighed, staring at his shepherd's pie and wondering how to proceed. "I meant how are you doing, personally? You seem to be recovering from your illness very nicely."

"I'm fine, sir," Malcolm repeated. He looked at his breaded muck and wished the captain was not so enamored of serving British meals when they dined together. He'd been looking forward to the seasoned Tilapia that Chef had been talking about.

"You haven't been overly worked or worried about anything special lately?" Archer continued, digging into his baked crust and toying with the bits of meat and vegetable that he found there.

Reed put a fork full of food in his mouth in order to buy a few seconds of time. He couldn't figure out what answer the captain was looking for. Chewing carefully, he swallowed and sipped his ice water. "I'm concerned that the phase canons aren't working at maximum efficiency," he repeated slowly, watching every facial tick on the man in front of him. "If anyone from the Reef might follow us, we'd be hard pressed to defend ourselves until the weapons are working properly."

Frustrated, Archer spooned another mouthful of food into his gullet. "How was your time on the Reef? Anything there that worries you specifically?"

"Everything about that place worries me, sir," Malcolm acknowledged fervently. "It's a refuge for people existing at the lowest and basest levels of society."

"Would you consider the doctor to be part of the lowest and basest of society?" Archer inquired. Andie probably hadn't had time to talk to Reed yet, so his animosity couldn't spring from the doctor's unconventional background. Jon snorted to himself; now he was referring to her childhood as 'unconventional!' That seemed to be soft-selling it just a bit. He brought his attention back to the table as Reed began to speak.

"I don't think she's base or low, sir," Reed started slowly. "I do think there's a good deal that she's not letting on, and I think her unruly temper might affect discipline on this ship, but…" _But she was a skin-trader,_ his inner voice filled in. _No_, he corrected, _she was not one of them_. _But she'd certainly worked with them. They regarded her with both respect and fear. She'd done something to earn both. If only he could figure out what exactly that was._ Malcolm realized he'd stopped speaking and the captain was staring at him. He shook his head to clear the troubling thoughts. "I don't think she's the lowest common denominator, sir, although I do think she could use some more discipline."

"Would you like to talk to someone about her undisciplined actions?" Archer inquired. _Shows how little she knows about him; he was offering professional help without any stigmas attached_! He mentally congratulated himself.

"Someone other than yourself?" Malcolm questioned in confusion.

"If you like," Archer agreed amiably, toying with his food rather than eating it.

"I'm quite all right, sir. Thank you for asking." Malcolm's tone was very polite but he was suddenly curious about the motives of the captain inviting him to dine with him on just a moment's notice.

Jon nodded absently as he continued to stare at Malcolm. For a few seconds, the armory officer had been lost in thought, somewhere else entirely as he struggled to voice his concerns about the new doctor. Andie had been sure that Malcolm was talking to people who weren't there, but that could have been the fever talking. _So to speak_, Jon thought with amusement. He felt more certain than ever that Andie had jumped to an incorrect conclusion when she assumed that Malcolm was carrying around some deep secret. He was just trained to focus on all the details. Nothing would ever get in the way of Malcolm completing his duties with precision. He was quiet and hesitated to speak out of turn, but that was all there was to it.

"Starfleet seems to put a great deal of responsibility on her shoulders," Jon said amiably as he shoveled more of the pot pie into his mouth. "She must be doing something right."

"She seems very young to be holding such responsibilities," Malcolm noted hesitantly.

"I'm sure she's proven herself," Jon sipped his tea again. "She's mentioned some concerns about the crew that may have some merit. She thinks some people may be under some undue stress, and has recommended some extra leisure time."

"Is there anyone in particular, sir? Someone I should keep an eye on?" Malcolm inquired. He put down his fork and studied the captain. A loose canon among the crew was never good for morale.

"I think she was implying that the command staff could use a little extra rest," Archer reassured him, backtracking to keep Reed off the scent of what might be construed an imprudent mention.

"Has Commander T'Pol made any assessments?" Reed wanted to know.

"Why would T'Pol make assessments?" Archer inquired.

"I thought perhaps T'Pol might have suggested some leisure time as a way of securing sufficient time to grieve for her mother," Reed sighed, pushing his soggy vegetables around in the equally soggy pastry bowl.

Archer felt like slapping his own forehead. He'd forgotten about T'Pol's recent loss. "No, it wasn't a request from T'Pol," he denied. _Was it customary to send flowers to grieving Vulcans?_ He'd have to check the data base, and then possibly make arrangements with the biologists in charge of the hydroponics bay to see what they might have blooming. Dr. Andie might have something more colorful in her newly acquired greenhouse. His mind was fully focused on the mental arrangements he was making. "Andie thought…she mentioned that you seemed to be especially tense."

At that Malcolm sat up straighter in his chair. "Me,sir? She thinks _I'm_ especially tense? What proof did she present to you to back up that claim?" He was outraged.

"Relax, Malcolm," Archer tried to head off the explosion. "I think she has a point. We've all been under a great deal of strain and I think we could with some extra leisure time. Our leave on Earth was cut short when we had to chase down the Augments, and I, for one, could have used the full rest period." A dull ache formed in his chest as he thought about cutting short his time with Erika Hernandez. "I know that the Command Council made certain that everyone who wanted it was able to partake of counseling efforts after we returned from the Expanse, although if you'd like to make further arrangements, I'm sure that would be fine, too. Although I think the idea of extra leisure time might be more beneficial."

Jonathan really warmed to the idea of bonding with his crew in a more appropriate setting than a counselor's office. He leaned back in his chair and pondered. "I'll see if we can't schedule some more restful activities for the crew, something other than chasing down pirates and battling renegade Klingons." He grinned widely as he thought of something. "We could open up the conference room in the evenings! The large screen in there is perfect for sporting matches! I've got some water polo matches on tape, and it's the perfect way to introduce the sport to some people on board who've never seen it before!" His green eyes started to shine with delight, as Malcolm tried not to cringe in any visible way.

"That would be lovely, sir. But are you certain that the conference room is the proper place for that? You might consider the Observation Lounges. They are designated as appropriate for crewmembers of all security clearances."

Archer beamed at Malcolm's interest in his favorite sport. "This could be the start of something beautiful, Malcolm!" He raised his glass in a toast, which Lt. Reed feebly duplicated. Inside Reed was seething. He was going to hunt that woman down for reporting him to the captain over something that she had clearly misunderstood, if not outright fabricated.

* * *

Malcolm Reed came barreling through the double doors in Sickbay like a tank cutting a swath through jungle. Mindful that others might be in the medical ward, he tried to quiet his footsteps as he came near, but he was so angry he wasn't certain he succeeded. It didn't matter; there was only one person in the room.

"May I have a word with you, Doctor?" he hissed as he approached her seated position from behind.

"Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?" she inquired, looking up from her paperwork. His appearance was not the silently polite expression he'd offered during his morning exam. Whatever was wrong, he was livid.

"Yes, but I'd rather speak to you in private." The words were bit off as though he didn't want them to linger in his mouth.

Andie looked around at the empty room and raised an eyebrow. Rather than argue with him in this state, she decided to humor him. "Sure," she indicated the office behind her and he followed her in.

Once the doors closed, Malcolm couldn't restrain his outburst. "You told the captain I was crazy?"

"I…What?" she looked puzzled.

"You told the captain I was in need of leisure time! He wanted to know if I wanted some sort of counseling! Do you have any idea what this could to my career?"

At least his anger was understandable. "It might stop you from hurting someone on accident or on purpose?" she suggested. _Archer had all the tact of a raging rhinoceros_, she thought, mentally rolling her eyes.

"You had no right!"

"As long as I'm acting Chief Medical Officer…"

"Temporary! Acting! Chief!" How he managed to get the words out through his clenched jaw was a mystery.

Andie continued fuming as though he hadn't interfered. "As long as I'm Chief, I'll report the injuries and conditions as I see fit! You don't like it? Get a medical degree and take over!" She stepped through the door behind her and Reed reached out to grab her arm and stop her.

What happened next was a blur. She managed to wrench her arm from his grasp, twist his wrist sharply and send waves of pain radiating up his arm with minimal effort. His eyes watered from the pressure, causing him to stop squirming in the hopes of reducing his injury.

"Don't ever touch me without my permission," she hissed. "Do you understand me?" she demanded when he did nothing but stare at her. In the outer room, tiny creatures growled and fussed restlessly as though the tension was a palpable force in the room.

"I understand. Let go of me," he growled as he was held in place, fascinated not by the strength of her grip, but by the speed with which she moved. She was swift like a striking snake.

Behind them the doors slid open and Andie dropped her hand quickly, leaving Malcolm to rub his wrist where she'd touched him. She departed the office to meet Trip as he entered the room and his look of concern deepened when he witnessed the pair still scowling at one another. "What's going on?" the engineer asked cautiously.

"Nothing important, just a medical consult," Andie waved his worries away with her hand. "Are you injured?"

"No," he answered slowly, watching Reed come to a halt behind her.

"Well then, would you excuse me?" Andie grabbed a data pad and all but fled the room in a flurry of coattails.

Trip turned his gaze on the tactical officer. "What did you say to her?" he demanded.

"Practically nothing," Reed huffed.

"You said something!" Trip pointed out. "She looked angry!"

"She always looks angry," Reed pointed out.

Trip stood straighter. "Would you like to tell me why you're harassing the doctor, Lieutenant?" The use of rank was more than a courtesy; it was a reminder that Trip could demand an answer.

Reed snapped to attention at the authoritative tone, sneaking a quick glance at room to make certain it was empty. "She told the captain that I was acting oddly and he called me in to dinner to inquire about my mental health! I wanted to know where she got her insight into my personality."

"Did she happen to mention that as the tactical officer your behavior _has _been odd?" Trip asked archly. "You're tormenting her. She might have reason to wonder about that with someone who handles weapons for a living." Trip wanted to speak out, to tell Malcolm that Andie had suffered more than anyone he'd ever known, and that he should cut her some slack, but the confidential nature of her background forbid that, even with his friend.

"You're taking her side?" Reed looked surprised. "She's…." He didn't even know how to finish that statement.

"She's a pain in the ass, I know," Trip assured him. "But she's doing the best she can. You should try to understand her position."

"Try to understand….? Are you…?" Malcolm's objections dried up. He was doing it again. His temper, once unleashed, was difficult to restrain, and he was letting that woman get under his skin. "Yes, sir," he snapped to attention. "You're right, sir. Compassion and understanding are the best reactions in this situation. Thank you, sir."

His friend was giving him a very polite kiss off and although Trip would like to stay and hash out the entire matter, he had more pressing concerns at the moment. "I won't mention this incident to the captain, provided there are no more occurrences of this kind," he said. Trip relented upon seeing the stoic expression return to Malcolm's face; he hadn't really seen that there in three years, not since they got stuck in a shuttle pod. "Cut her some slack, Malcolm," he beseeched his friend.

"I shall do my best, sir." Malcolm snapped off a salute, which made Trip roll his eyes. Tucker offered a return salute that wasn't quite as crisp and exhaled heavily when Malcolm's hand dropped back to his side.

"You should find some way to relax," Trip invited. "You're wound up a little tight. Go to the gym or maybe watch a movie. I can recommend a really good romantic comedy!"

"I really prefer explosions," Malcolm protested weakly. "Although I could use a cup of tea."

"There you go!" Trip clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "A good cuppa and a movie; what better way to spend a Friday night?"

_Blowing stuff up_, Malcolm thought, but he didn't voice it out loud, instead offering a conciliatory smile at his comrade.

They parted company on an amicable note as they both exited the medical ward. Malcolm returned to the Mess Hall and Trip went off in search of the doctor.

* * *

The engineer found her in the greenhouse, studying soil samples under the microscope. She was wrapped up in her work and she looked so small there among the greenery. Trip decided to take a slightly different tactic with her. "You're missing the movie," he chided gently.

"It's romantic nonsense," she muttered without looking up. "They all end the same."

"You could have tried it out," he fiddled with a green leaf.

Andie looked up and noted the worry on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm not really a fan of movies." She placed another slide under the microscope and went back to peering at the results.

"You can't work all the time," Trip pointed out as he pulled up another stool and settled beside her.

"I don't work all the time," she protested, making notes in a PADD. "I'm having a good time."

"Looking at dirt?" He grinned, filtering earth through his fingers.

"Here, help," she directed, dropping a container of nutrients in front of him. "You have no idea the joys of getting your hands dirty."

"Yeah, that's completely beyond me," he responded dryly. He held up his hands which still held traces of the oils used to clean and maintain a Warp Five engine under his nail bed.

"I think your manicure will survive adding a pinch of Nutritional Supplement for Seedlings, Number Five," she nodded sagely, handing over a smaller sack.

They worked together, puttering in the soil, transferring nutrients to the seedlings.

"So what _do_ you do for fun?" he wondered, patting the earth down.

Andie rolled her eyes and repeated. "I like my job. How is that not considered fun?"

The engineer raised an eyebrow.

She ignored his silent prodding and directed his attention to his handiwork. "You're tucking them in too tight. Let the earth be a little looser around the stem."

"I like to get letters from home," he admitted as he aerated the soil with a thin tool. "I got one this morning, although I didn't get a chance to look at it until after dinner. I hear you get a lot of mail too."

Obviously he had something on his mind, she thought. Evidently this was what brought him down to Sickbay in the first place. He just seemed to be taking his sweet time to get to the point. "I move around a lot. The postal service seems to have caught up with me."

Trip picked up a different seedling. "It caught up with me too," he mentioned casually. "I guess whoever was on mail duty today just looked at the surname on the letter and sent it right to my cabin, but the letter I got was actually for you."

Andie grew still. She waited in silence.

"Why would my mother be sending you a letter?" Trip demanded.

"If you read it, I'm sure you have the answer to that question," she responded carefully.

"It's the reason I came down here, instead of watching the movie." When Trip missed Movie Night, something was definitely wrong with the world. He handed over a data disk, and Andie carefully wiped her hands on a towel before accepting it.

His expression didn't give away anything. Rather than try and get him to leave before reading what might be something awful, Andie just slipped the disk into an ever-present e-pad and perused the dispatch. She exhaled deeply and her shoulders slumped as the tension slipped away in a rush. Obviously it was good news.

"What the hell's the Chrysalis Foundation? And why is my mama suddenly the head of it?" Trip demanded.

Andie felt lighter than she'd felt in a couple of days. "I bought a ranch. I planted some aliens there. She's going to help them bloom!" Her legs swung back and forth on the stool like a small child.

"You planted aliens, like seedlings in the ground?" he queried, trying to maintain a scowl and mostly failing. When the lines around her eyes eased away, Andie looked like a little kid in grown-up clothing.

"They needed someplace to go. Only Earth's government didn't think they should be left to their own devices, and I'm too far away to help at the moment, and I hoped that your mother, with her extensive background, could offer them assistance until a permanent head of the Foundation can be found." Andie's grin grew wider. " 'Your mama' offered to help me make them at home."

Trip struggled to look stern. Her cheeriness was contagious and he really wanted to continue frowning. "Where did you find these particular aliens? Was there some discount store on your recent trip back to Earth offering deals on homeless aliens?"

Andie beamed. "Actually _you_ found them." Her fingers drummed on the edge of the table.

"I did?" Trip's eyes widened. "Did I go crazy at the Discount Alien Store again? My credit will never be the same!" He slapped a hand to his forehead.

Now she giggled, clearly in a complete change of spirits. "You found them in the Expanse. The Vulcan transport that was sent into the Expanse after you returned from your mission offered them a trip to Earth and now they have a place to stay."

Trip's silliness vanished. "There's Xindi on Earth?" They may have made the difference between success and failure for his world, but he wasn't going to be happy that they were running amok on his planet after what they did to his sister.

"No, Skagaarans," she stated simply. "Their ancestors were human after all."

Now Trip exhaled in relief. "My mama's teaching those Old West folk how to live in modern society?" His grin returned. "I hope she takes away their guns first thing." He could still smell the acrid smoke in the air after the loud percussion of the ancient projectile weapons.

Andie grinned. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

Trip puttered with a pile of dirt in front of him, making a smooth tower of dirt before brushing it out flat on the table. "My mom's going through a lot of trouble right now. My folks are in a new house, and they just lost their daughter. Maybe now isn't such a good time to be takin' on a project like this."

"I only offered the position," Andie pointed out. "She was the one to accept it. Besides, work can be a great relief from your personal problems."

"Is that why you're workin' instead of watchin' the movie?"

For all his easy-going demeanor, he was a lot sharper than she expected him to be sometimes. "I have a lot of work to do," she answered simply, turning back to her microscope.

"Maybe you could use some extra relaxation," he pointed out. "Maybe that's why you're bullying Malcolm."

"I'm not bullying anyone," Andie sulked, hiding her expression as she peered into the microscope.

"You're tormenting him," Trip pointed out with a sigh. "He's a pretty decent guy, but you're poking at him, just waiting for him to explode."

"He's not that exciting to watch," she muttered. Her hands fumbled the next slide she was looking at. She was tired, she told herself. That's why her hands were shaking.

"So you admit you _have_ been watching him?" Trip teased. Humor had worked pretty well before; he just figured he'd use humor rather than another attack.

"I have not! He's not that much fun to look at!" That left the wrong impression, and she tried to backtrack. "Not that I've been looking. I'm just trying to do my job!"

Trip eyed her with curiosity. "You're protesting a lot," he smirked. He looked closer. "Are you blushing?" Now his interest was truly peaked.

"I am not blushing. I don't blush. Schoolgirls blush. I am not a schoolgirl. I'm a doctor." Each word was carefully emphasized in order to sound succinct, but the color on her cheeks deepened with every word.

"You sound just like m'sister whenever she'd fancy some guy at school," Trip egged her on. "Do you have a crush on Malcolm?" The idea filled him with glee. After all the mockery he'd been subjected to in the last year by the armory officer, the thought of a little payback was a thought to be relished.

"I. Do. Not." Andie spoke through gritted teeth. "I only like him for his mind. And that's been pretty well scrambled by whatever jackassery he flings my way."

"That's a start," Trip teased. He pretended to sober up. "Come on," he urged. "Tell Uncle Tucker all about your deep and abiding love for his…_mind_!" He chortled so hard his shoulders shook. He had to duck when she flung a clod of dirt in his direction

"I don't want to talk about this. I'm busy. Go away." Andie reached for another slide, but Tucker placed his hand on top of it.

"Talk first, work later," Trip told her playfully. "You love his mind…?" he prompted when she refused to start. "Was there moonlight? Love sonnets? Or did you just see his head sitting on top of his shoulders and think, 'gee, he's got nice hair?' "

Andie attempted to kick the stool out from under him, but Trip deflected her foot and waited with an ever-widening grin on his face. Stifling his need to giggle like a schoolgirl, he prompted her again. "If you don't spill your guts, I'll just make my own conclusions!"

_Tucker wasn't going to let up until she told him something_, she thought with resignation. "I have these friends," Andie started hesitantly.

Trip broke the mood when he slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh my God! You have _friends_?" He was chortling with laughter now. It felt like he hadn't laughed in a very long time.

"I have one less now than I had yesterday," she snapped, sliding off her stool and preparing to leave the room in a fit.

Tucker caught her sleeve to prevent her exit and sobered up with a visible effort. "I'm sorry. Please, continue. You have…friends." He choked on the last word.

"These guys are very smart and very competitive. So…one of them comes home from a trip into space, talking about an alien species and their electromagnetic force shields, and how an invention of that kind would save mankind untold damages and change the world. He vowed that

he was going to be the one to create force shields and win the Nobel Prize." She fidgeted, and seemed defensive about her story.

"And one of them did?" Trip inquired.

"No," she denied. "They are very competitive, so after the first guy says he's going to do it, the second guy vows he'll do it faster and the third guy claims he'll kick all their asses and do it first."

"So the _third_ guy does it?"

"No," she smirked as though her face might crack. "A few months into your first year, some lowly lieutenant sent back reports on the stable EM barrier he whipped up in a couple of days time on board your ship." She could see that Trip didn't fully comprehend the situation. Her grin widened. "The EM barrier is the first step in creating a workable force shield. My friends are really, really, _really_ smart and they were outdone by some guy who blows stuff up for a living." She was positively gleeful now. "They _hate_ him! My friends were going to change the world and Reed left them all in the dust! That never happens!" She sighed wistfully "I'd love to pick his brain. If it wasn't so scrambled all the time," she added hastily.

"You realize you stand a better chance of picking his brain if you stop pissing him off," Trip suggested helpfully.

Andie tilted her head to the side and studied an orchid at an angle as she sighed and thought how nice scrambled eggs sounded at that moment. "Yes, but he's just so pretty when he's mad." She froze and looked at Trip. "I didn't mean it like that!"

The engineer was giggling again. His shoulders shook so hard he feared he'd fall off his stool. "Yes, you did."

"Trip, I…" Andie stopped speaking. "That was completely inappropriate. I'm his medical professional. I can't start a relationship. Not that he'd want one. Or that I'd want one. I tend to poke at him like a stick." She thought of the way Reed sought comfort from an invisible friend. "There's just…there's just more to him than meets the eye."

Trip finally stopped laughing. "You're right about that," he agreed. "But you need to learn to play nice with him. Actually you need to learn to play nice with everybody on board. This isn't a battle ground that you have to conquer; this is a ship full of sensitive people. You're going about this all wrong." His sides hurt from so much unaccustomed laughter.

_I have no idea what I'm doing_, she thought to herself. "I'll try to do better tomorrow," she promised, slipping off her stool. "I guess it's time for bed." She stumbled just as she reached her feet and Trip steadied her arm gently.

"Whoa! You all right?"

"I guess I haven't been sleeping much lately." Andie thought that might account for her sudden loose-lip syndrome and vowed to fix that problem before it became a habit.

"Here, don't forget your dirt ball." Trip picked the clod of earth she'd flung at him and handed it gently back to her.

"Thank you," she said, taking it back and dumping it into a container of soil. "If you need some more fun and relaxation in your life, you could always get in on the bet. My friends don't believe I'll manage to keep the greenhouse alive for six months."

"No green thumb, huh?" He let his dazzling smile out again to brighten the dim little room.

"Nope, both black," she grinned widely. "I don't understand it. I can keep humans, aliens and animals alive, but I've killed every house plant I've ever potted!"

Trip smirked. "Well then, I might have to take a piece of that action!" He held out a hand when she rose from her stool, and escorted her back into the corridor. "On the other hand, maybe it's best if I don't bet against you. Let's get you into bed, sleepyhead."

Andie grinned. "Men always use the lamest lines to get my pants off."

Trip felt equal parts bemused and embarrassed at his slip of the tongue. "Don't get your hopes up. Your pants are staying on."

"Kinky, Tucker. Very kinky." Andie nodded knowingly as they stepped out of the greenhouse and made their way to the turbo-lift.

Malcolm chose this moment to come by and apologize. After fetching a cup of tea he had decided not to remain for the movie, preferring to drink his beverage in the calming quiet of his cabin. He wandered restlessly around, finally picking up a book. It was a book of poetry, the last item that had belonged to a love whose death had led him to follow a trail that had grown cold before justice had been achieved. Hope had slipped out of his grasp. All he had left was this ship, this job and this crew. And whether he liked it or not, the doctor was a part of this crew.

He had gone to make some sort of explanation to her, but it wasn't as easy as he wanted it to be.

Now he stood in the corridor outside her work station and tried to convince himself to talk to her. His reluctance was understandable; he had a great deal of resentment toward her that he was going to have to work through. Maybe he _was_ tormenting her. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why. When the door to the greenhouse opened, he stepped back into an alcove and waited in the shadows. Habits of secrecy died hard, it would seem.

From the T-junction at the end of the corridor, he watched the blond pair walk together in the direction of the turbo-lifts. The female reached out and looped her hand through Trip's elbow and they grinned at some shared joke.

_Of course she would be more comfortable with the amiable Southern gentleman_, Malcolm thought derisively. _Most women would_.

Lieutenant Reed returned to his quarters without speaking to either one.


	56. Chapter 56

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 56

* * *

It was far too early to be awake. Andie knew that without looking at the clock. Jojo was draped across one of her ankles in a dead sleep and Leon's whiskers tickled her ear as he lay on her pillow. She'd been dreaming of a place she had once been. A civilization that had existed on the outskirts of untamed nature had often been prey to wild animal attacks. She had been certain when she lived there that something was watching her from the tangle of jungle. Something had followed her, concealed in the dark, waiting for her to let down her guard. Something waited for her to slip up. Her father often assured her that she was imagining things, but she had spent every minute waiting for tooth or claw to sink into her unprotected neck when she wasn't looking.

She was awake now, far away from that primitive world. Andie knew she was aboard a starship from the faint hum of an engine in her ears, and she knew from the dark blue lab coat hanging on a hook near the door that her duties as medical officer would soon rouse her from her restless slumber. In spite of the soothing rhythms of the cat purring softly in her ear, it seemed as good a time as any to get up and she slid out from under the covers, pulling on a long robe to ward off the chill. She slouched into her chair at the computer and called up a few documents to peruse. Trip had been right; she'd gotten a lot of mail. Most had been involved with the Foundation and the land purchase on Earth, but some had been more mundane. Dr. Ezme had forwarded a couple of Denobulan medical articles detailing the nocturnal dream state of hibernation sleepers and comatose patients. The latest editions of three different alien medical journals needed to be translated into English. Some doctor in Alaska claimed to repudiate some of her father's work, and the accompanying paper was forwarded along with the relevant media clippings. She book marked an article describing the reconstruction of the tympanic nerve in the human ear to be read at another time. Mags had forwarded a dissertation on the long-term effects of phase pistol energy output on the human body and Andie decided to take that piece with her to the medical ward. She hunted among her personal belongings for a disc to transport the data.

Under her desk, her foot kicked the soft satchel that had been the last to be packed when she thought she might leave _Enterprise_. In one of the outer pockets, still residing where she'd left it was a yellow data disc. Someone had shoved this disc into her hands on Earth and she hadn't made time to study it before. If Mags had sent it to her, as she had originally thought, he would have made mention of it to her by now. Andie knew it was never a good idea to take candy from strangers, her father made sure she knew that, and now she had to decide what was to be done with this strange item. Her first instinct was to toss the mysterious material into the trash, and leave any information on it for the waste recyclers to reclaim, but she hesitated.

They said that knowledge was power, didn't they?

* * *

Archer stuck his head outside his private dining room during the breakfast rush and found the one he was looking for at the drinks dispenser, muttering under her breath. He moved across the room, nodding at the greetings offered to him and stood right behind the doctor as she waited for her coffee mug to fill.

"Everything all right?" he asked as she continued to mutter unintelligible nonsense under her breath.

Dr. Andie swung her head around but her scowl disappeared when she saw the man behind her. "Everything's fine, Jon," she agreed in a falsely pleasant voice as equally artificial as the smile she plastered on her face.

"Care to join me for breakfast then?" he offered, tilting a mug under the dispenser and asking for coffee.

She hesitated as her eyes scanned the room swiftly as thought searching for an escape. He had a feeling she would like to say not, but she offered a blazingly wide smile instead of objecting. "That would be lovely, Jon!" The irony was barely noticeable.

"Feel free to call me Captain Jon if you like! Or maybe just Captain," he joked as they made their way across the room. Of course, it wasn't really a joke.

"Of course," she answered agreeably, declining to use either title as she was ushered into the narrow room of the Captains' Mess. She took the chair closest to the door and the captain sat in his customary seat near the galley.

Crewman Svenson brought in an insulated thermos of coffee and his blue eyes took in the figure of Andie with a grin. In the captain's presence, he didn't say more than a murmured greeting though, but movements of his hands indicated that he'd once more procured goodies for her kitties. She acknowledged his silent message with a nod and waited for him to return with two plates of eggs and bacon. Andie fiddled with her coffee as she waited for the man to get to the point, in no mood to make ridiculous small talk. Her medical kit rested on her lap, as though she didn't feel free to let it out of her sight.

"How are things going in Sickbay?" he asked jovially, as he sprinkled salt and pepper with a free hand.

"Fine," she answered courteously. "Truax and Mazaro have both been released for regular duty and they are the last of the crewmembers afflicted with DSS. Everyone is back to normal. I'd like to suggest running some emergency drills now that the inventory is completed."

"That sounds good," he nodded as he consumed a forkful of eggs. "How's the greenhouse?"

"Progressing," she replied, fiddling with the strap on her bag. "I've received some preliminary data from the researchers. They're hoping to expedite the second stage of the project. I'll have those guidelines and proposals delivered to you as soon as they are confirmed."

"That sounds exciting," he responded with the same polite insincerity. "Since you're so prompt with informative details, I find it curious that I haven't received your report on the recent incident of DSS."

"I'm still working on it," she replied shortly. "There was a lot of data, and much that needs to be confirmed with the Denobulan doctors. Ezme has already sent me some information on coma patients and the unusual dreams that have occurred during their sleep. Obviously I was jumping to conclusions when I thought that Reed and Tucker might be of special concern." She hoped that would stop Archer from having anymore helpful conversations with Reed about what she considered his lack of sanity.

"I have also received some information from the crew of the _Zhorya_," he informed her obligingly. "It's their preliminary report on Phlox's condition, along with the necessary reports on DSS. I'll have a copy sent to you immediately. Since their report was so promptly sent, I expect to have yours soon."

"I would like to confer with Phlox before submitting the final report," she explained tersely.

"The Denobulan doctors assured me that it will take several weeks for Phlox to fully recover. I'm not sure Starfleet Medical wants to wait that long for information on a disease that could strike any number of people on Earth at any time."

"It's a rare disease," she told him. "It's even rarer to be transmitted to someone who isn't Denobulan_. Enterprise_ was simply a medical anomaly. Nobody on board the Daihan cruiser or the space station showed any signs of contracting the illness."

"All the same, I don't think I want to wait three weeks to find out what happened," he answered, keeping his stubborn grin and trying not to grit his teeth. "I'd like that report on my desk by the end of the week."

Andie stopped pushing potatoes around with her fork. "Fine," she forced the word out.

"How's confession going? Is it good for the soul?" he wondered, digging into his breakfast with an energy he didn't feel. "Commander Tucker mentioned your talk with him, and Commander T'Pol indicated that you had spoken with her. How did Malcolm react?"

She studied his expression for a long moment. Her lag time had run out and she put down her utensil. "I'm sure his reaction will be on par with the others," she answered discreetly. The mention of the tactical officer made her jaw clench.

Jon put his fork down. "You haven't told him yet?"

"It's a delicate prospect and there hasn't been an opportune time," she huffed.

"You couldn't find time when you were speaking with him the other night in Sickbay?"

Although Andie's eyes narrowed at his knowledge of her dustup with Reed, she didn't answer him, just waited for him to continue.

"Commander Tucker told me that there's still friction between you two, and Trip doesn't think Malcolm knows anything about the Daihan incident. I told you that your continued participation on board this ship is contingent on explaining your past to my armory officer. Is there a good reason why you have not completed this assignment?"

"There hasn't been an appropriate time," she hedged.

"_Find_ the time," he told her sternly. "Malcolm is a very intelligent person. I'll sure he'll react with understanding to your…_unique_…situation."

"I'll put it at the top of my list," she promised sarcastically.

"You have three days," he told her. "If you haven't reached an understanding with him by then, I'll call Starfleet and have a ship sent to fetch you."

"You could have saved them the trouble by allowing me to ride with the Denobulans," she told him waspishly.

"Are you refusing my request?"

"As I recall, it wasn't a request," she snapped.

"I'm glad you remember that part," he countered, turning his attention back to the last of his eggs.

When she continued to sit there, not bothering to fool around with her food, Jon looked up with another pleasant grin. "You're dismissed, Doctor."

She looked at him evenly for a moment and Archer was certain she was consoling herself with thoughts of his demise before that brilliant and bogus smile returned. "Thank you, _Jon_," she answered sweetly and rose to her feet.

He let the name go. Sometimes a little defiance felt good, especially when there were no other options available. He had a feeling he could bring her around.

* * *

Trip was more determined than ever to bring some sort of harmony between the doctor and the tactical officer. He breakfasted with Reed at a table near the window and tried to convince his friend to give it another shot as he poured syrup all over a stack of flapjacks.

"For all our sakes! I don't want to miss any more movies!" Trip was telling Reed, watching distastefully as the armory officer spread peanut butter all over his breakfast, ruining a stack of perfectly good pancakes. "You should give her a chance. You probably have a lot in common."

"I can't imagine what that might be," Reed sputtered, carefully wiping his knife clean on a corner of his plate in frustration. "The only things I know she likes are coffee, cats and hating me." _And apparently they both liked Commander Tucker, although Reed was pretty sure it wasn't quite in the same way._ "The only thing we have in common is...well, I can't think of anything."

Trip smirked. "Well, you've got..." Suddenly he stopped talking and shoveled a forkful of breakfast into his mouth.

Reed studied his friend. "You know of something we have in common?" he asked carefully. Trip looked guilty.

"Nope," Trip scarffed another mouthful. By the time he'd finished chewing, he had a better answer. "Well, I guess you both hate movie night." What he really wanted to say was that both parties were interested in the other and maybe they should take a chance, but there were two key points that stopped him. Firstly Trip's own shipboard romance had not worked out and he was still trying to determine how to live and work with his former lover, and secondly, he'd promised not to say a word about Andie's sleep-deprived slip of the tongue, on pain of death. And she might actually deliver death, he concluded.

Reed was amused to note the accelerating pace with which his friend had started eating. "What do you know about the doctor that I don't?" he persisted. He was certain there was a good deal a man might know about his latest conquest, and wished he didn't care so much what knowledge the commander might be able to provide. _Or how he came by the knowledge_, Reed added silently.

"Hey, Doc!" Trip called out, ignoring Reed's demands. He had just seen the woman leave the Captain's Mess and he waved her over enthusiastically. "Come sit with us! We've got the best seat in the house!" He waved at the chair resting closest to the armory officer and smiled a conspirator's grin at the physician.

She didn't seem at all amused. Her mouth tightened into an even slimmer line as she tucked her thermos of coffee into the satchel she wore over her shoulder whenever she left Sickbay. "Good morning," she greeted them politely. Her gaze might have actually given Reed freezer burn if he'd bothered to look up at her instead of focusing on cutting his griddle cakes into neat and evenly-sized pieces. "I can't stay. I have lots of work to do. Thanks for the offer." She was already backing away and nearly ran into the buffet table.

"You always have work to do," Trip protested, echoing their conversation of the night before. "You should learn to have fun. Join us for breakfast." He patted the chair that rested between him and Malcolm invitingly.

Andie absently brushed at her satchel, interrupting the smooth paw that poked out in an attempt to liberate some bacon from the buffet line, and stood firm. "I can't. Sorry." The orange face that was located at the other end of the white paw peeked out of the opening of her satchel and glared at the world from his hidden location resting comfortably near her hip. "I have to go," she insisted.

Andie nearly ran into Sven as she turned on her heel. While she was engaged with taking the small container he offered to her, another white paw snuck out of the satchel. The gray female was much luckier than her male counterpart, scoring a fat sausage that dangled at the edge of the table and slapping her cohort's paw away when he seemed inclined to share her hard-stolen goods. They both took a nose dive back into the satchel when their mistress dropped the small container in beside them. The woman left the room without looking over her shoulder.

Trip looked after her in puzzlement. He could understand if she didn't want to give in to her little crush on Malcolm, but she was usually a better sport about jokes like this. She looked really ticked off, but as far as Trip knew, Reed had not had time to upset her after she left him in the medical ward last night. "That was weird," he murmured.

"What was weird?" Malcolm queried, sipping his tea carefully.

"She's usually friendlier than that after she's had some coffee," Trip murmured in confusion.

"Maybe to you, she is," Malcolm snorted.

The engineer sighed. He thought he'd made progress with the doctor last night, but it all seemed to backtrack this morning, and now Malcolm was still holding on to some silly grudge. "She's a good person," he told the tactical officer. "She's involved with charity work. She's nice to everybody. The only person she doesn't like is you, and I can't figure out why."

Trip's puzzlement was clear. Reed was going to have to remain silent and force himself to be nice that wretched woman for the sake of his friend who was apparently dating her. It was the polite thing to do. "What kind of charity work is she involved in?" he asked, fiddling with his food.

"Well, I found out she's a member of the Chrysalis Foundation," Trip supplied helpfully, shoveling a stack of pancake into his mouth.

"What's that? I've never heard of it." Malcolm toyed with his fruit cup.

"It's a…Well, it's a… They do good work," Trip finished unhelpfully. "They work with aliens on earth," he tried to elaborate. "They help non-Terrans find homes and gainful employment and fit in with the local population." He'd read all that in the charter he'd looked up via Earth data link last night after he'd retired to his quarters. There hadn't been much information available.

"Isn't that the purpose for which the I.N.S. was created?" Malcolm inquired. Starfleet had the most well-regarded Immigration and Naturalization Service on the planet.

"I think the Chrysalis is a civilian foundation," Trip fumbled.

"You think?" Malcolm teased. Trip seemed fuzzy on the details. "You don't know?"

"We didn't cover that last night," Trip mumbled, looking at his nearly empty plate.

"What did you cover last night?" Stormy eyes focused on the last grape rolling around in the small ceramic bowl on his plate. He could think of several things that two healthy young adults might cover late at night in one bedroom or another. Mentally he shook his head to clear it; the doctor's relationships were none of his business. He stabbed at his grape with a vengeance.

As an engineer, Trip's ears were always finely tuned to the subtle rhythms and fluctuations of the warp engine, differences that most people couldn't hear. He could pick out the double entendre in Malcolm's last statement, whether or not the armory officer was aware of it. He could tell Malcolm that the doctor had some silly crush on him. It might give them something to talk about. But Andie would, without a doubt and completely without hesitation, plant a foot so far up his behind that he'd never sit down again. "That was pretty much it. She got a letter from the Chrysalis Foundation and it came to me by mistake. I delivered it to her." He shrugged off any further comment.

Malcolm was quick to pick up on Trip's nerves regarding the subject at hand and grew suspicious. "You know something else about her." He couldn't figure out why Trip wouldn't just tell him that he was dating the doctor. It's not like Reed would run to T'Pol with the information. He could be trusted, if only Trip were to give him the chance.

"Nope, that's all I know," Trip insisted, gulping down the last of his orange juice in a hurry.

Stormy eyes narrowed. "That's not all," Reed concluded. "There's something else on your mind."

Trip finally swallowed a mouthful of food and shot an apologetic glance at his friend. "I can't tell you anymore'n I already have." He got up and dumped his tray in the basin for dirty dishes, and left with a quick apology.

Malcolm didn't waste any time in following after. "If I'm supposed to be finding some common ground with the doctor, the least you could do is try and help me!"

Trip rounded a corner. "I can't," he grimaced. He should have known better than to say anything in front of Reed the Bloodhound. "I've been sworn to secrecy." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"Sworn by whom?" Reed demanded.

Tucker had run out of room to run. The turbo-lift was dead ahead. Since they left earlier than the rest of the diners, there was a small blessing in that there was nobody else around to hear them. He pushed the button to call the lift and it opened quickly.

"Andie made me promise." Trip hated himself for this. "Malcolm, I can't tell you anymore than that. I've already told you more'n I should. This is…classified and I can't talk about it with you. Please don't ask."

Trip stepped inside the lift. Malcolm stuck out a hand to keep the doors open but didn't immediately get inside. "Two members of the senior staff meet late at night but the events of that meeting are classified?"

"Get in or out, Malcolm!" Trip sniped. He felt bad about spilling the beans.

Malcolm stepped back with a puzzled frown and let the doors close between them. That encounter was especially strange. He wondered what it could mean.

* * *

Hoshi dropped the requested information next to Reed's tray at lunch. "That's everything I can find on the Chrysalis Foundation," she told him, settling in with her bowl of soup.

"Thank you." Malcolm picked up the data disk and turned it over in his hands. He'd have to wait until later to look at the information for himself.

"It's a new charity," Hoshi went on, probably guessing why the tactical officer was less than gleeful about receiving the information in the Mess Hall, far away from a computer. "All their paperwork was filled out this year. Most of the members are all listed as temporary until their offices can be sworn in."

"Where did their endowment come from?" he wondered out loud. The key to solving most mysteries was to follow the money.

"All funds were gathered through charitable gifts from private citizens. There are one or two large donors and a growing number of smaller deposits from an assortment of people." Hoshi sipped her tea. "I think it's nice. We got back from fighting a war to make peace with aliens just so that humans could attack Phlox in a public bar. That was heartbreaking. It's good to know that not every human on Earth feels animosity toward our work."

"That's very gratifying," Malcolm agreed pleasantly before asking another question. "Did you catch the names of any of the large investors?"

"I only glanced at the file," Hoshi told him, watching him carefully. "A donation was made from an English lord, another by the Martian Mining Operation, and the most recent was from the Silver Angel Medical Alliance."

Those weren't any names that he would associate with Andie Brainerd. Although that medical alliance sounded promising, there was no mention of anything like it in Andie's background. He ought to know; he'd checked her references very carefully.

Malcolm noticed Hoshi looking at him strangely. "Commander Tucker's mother may have become involved in the Foundation. He will be relieved that her participation is with a reputable organization." He congratulated himself on using mostly true words as he finished his lunch.

"I'm sure he'll be pleased," Hoshi nodded her agreement as she finished her lunch.

* * *

Long after lunch and dinner were over, the ship drifted quietly through space. Most of the crew had retired to their own quarters or carried out their own interactions in quiet. One man made his way to Sickbay. He'd spent all day trying to figure out how to break this to the doctor and now he'd figured it out.

"Don't hate me."

Andie looked up from her data pad and dropped the stylus she'd been using. Slowly she swung around in her chair and studied the engineer as he shifted from one foot to another and looked profoundly guilty. She was already frowning.

"What did you do?" She inquired sternly.

"I was talking to Malcolm this morning. I may have said something. He might…know."

"He might know _what_?" Andie demanded.

"He might know…about…your feelings for him?" Trip offered slowly.

At least that wasn't what she was expecting to hear. Relief washed over her. Her secrets were still safe. Relief disappeared as she absorbed the rest of his sentence. "I don't have feelings for him," she sighed. "I want to pick his brain. Were you not listening last night? I was very clear on this subject." Her voice raised in volume toward the end.

"Maybe not that clear," Trip offered an apologetic grin. "Oops!"

Andie rubbed her forehead as though experiencing great pain. She'd known this was coming all day. She couldn't really put it off any longer. She was going to have to confront Reed once and for all. The disk made that clear. So did Archer.

Trip attempted to be useful. "At least now you can talk to him! You know, explain that I got it wrong. It's a starting point."

Andie's glare made it crystal clear that he was not nearly as helpful as he thought he was. "Get out," she demanded.

"But I thought…"

"OUT!"

Trip offered another apologetic grin before scurrying out of the medical ward. Outside his conciliatory demeanor changed. It had been one of those quirky things his sister did when she liked some guy; she'd create a reason to talk to him. Trip had helped Andie out on that front. He almost whistled as he headed back to his quarters. At the turbo-lift he changed his direction. There might be some pecan pie left and he felt he needed a reward for bringing about the opening peace talks between the two prickliest people on board.

* * *

The hour was pretty late and there were only a couple members of the armory team working. Andie found her prey tucked in the tiny cell he referred to as his office. She knocked and waited for the absent-minded invitation to enter, setting down the second mug of steaming liquid on the edge of his narrow desk as a peace offering.

"Neither food nor beverages are allowed in the armory, Doctor," he chided mildly, ignoring the way the scent of tea made his mouth water. Surreptitiously he shut off the monitor. She didn't need to know that he was still poring over the Chrysalis Foundation report.

_So much for a peace offering!_ Andie thought. "Sorry, Lieutenant," she mumbled. She took back the steaming brew while sipping from her own mug. She cradled the second mug while looking anywhere but directly at him. As she shifted restlessly from foot to foot, he worried that she would drop one of the beverages she carried, and then he'd have to clean up the mess. He took the second mug out of her hand, leaving her to cup her own mug with both hands.

"Is there something I can do for you, Doctor?" he prompted her. She looked like she was on a one-way trip to the gallows.

"Thecaptainsayswehavetogetalong," she strung all the words together as they rushed out of her mouth.

"Excuse me?"

"Captain Archer believes that we don't get along." A deep line appeared between her brows as she made this announcement with all due solemnity. "He thinks we should be friendly and he's threatened to send me home if I can't get along with you. I _refuse_ to be sent home because of you," she added fiercely.

"Do you have something specific in mind?" he asked, leaning as far back in his chair as the narrow space would allow. "Something that would allow this…" _Unholy alliance_ was the phrase his mind supplied although he didn't say it out loud. "…_friendship_ to begin."

Drawing a deep breath as though it might give her fortitude, she looked him in the eye and adopted a casual lean against the wall beside her. "I thought we might work together on some common interest."

"Such as…?" he inquired again. It was the second time today someone thought to mention their mutual diversions. He couldn't help but wonder if Commander Tucker had put her up to this. He found her reply somewhat surprising though.

"If you're free in the evenings, I thought we might meet in the gym and practice a little self-defense."

"I beg your pardon?" Obviously Trip hadn't suggested this; not after the incident with the phase pistol!

"Sparring," she answered succinctly.

"Sparring? In the gym?"

She nodded. All day long she had pictured him flying through the air and landing on his backside. It had cheered her considerably. Now she might have the opportunity to do so in practice.

"The captain ordered you to get along with me and you think the best way to do that is to beat me up on a regular basis?" He watched her stare silently at him over the barrier of her coffee mug.

She appeared to mull the words over in her mind. Eventually she nodded. "Yup, pretty much."

He leaned back in his chair and pretended to think it over. She wasn't helpless in a fight and she might do him damage, but on the other hand, he could hardly accept the idea that she might actually best the tactical officer in the practice ring. He could teach her a lesson by throwing her to the ground on the soft mats that covered the floor of the gym if she got out of line. He might even learn enough to wrestle out of that painful grip she'd subjected him to. Reed maintained the thoughtful frown to make her squirm.

"Tomorrow evening, nineteen hundred hours?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Nineteen thirty," she objected, relieved that he'd accepted and just as mad that she would have to spend time with him. _Stupid captain_, she thought. If there was any other way to get out of this mess, she would have taken it. The captain's last words at breakfast were to 'reach an understanding.' He didn't reiterate anything about what information was to be understood. She was going to cling to that loophole until the moment she was tossed off this ship.

"Nineteen thirty, it is then," he agreed and rose, extending his hand to shake on the deal. She looked like she'd rather set his hand on fire, but she grabbed it briefly then left.

Malcolm thought tomorrow was going to be very interesting. He considered telling the engineer that he had a date with his girlfriend in the gym the next evening, but decided against it. Trip just wanted them to get along. It didn't matter what they did to find a peaceable solution. What was the worst that could happen? She'd already shot him in the posterior once. Malcolm made a mental note not to practice with firearms at their first meeting. He shut off his computer and went to bed.

* * *

Andie entered the room at exactly nineteen thirty, a record of her own timeliness. Malcolm had expected her to be a bit late and had started by lifting weights in the corner. He wondered if her attire reflected her mood; black exercise pants and a black tee shirt that read '_Remember: Pillage first, THEN burn_' in yellow. Her collection of offensive shirts was astounding.

He wore gray sweatpants and a dark green tee shirt. The colors suited him. She reminded herself that she wasn't here to pay attention to his fashion sense. She was here to kick his ass, per the captain's orders.

Kind of.

She waved a hand that encouraged him to continue his lifts a little longer, and used the quiet time to stretch out on the mat. A few minutes later a movement out of the corner of her eye indicated that he was standing right next to her. Carefully she untwined herself and faced him.

"I've seen T'Pol doing exercises that look similar," he noted. "Is that a Vulcan ritual?" He handed her a pair of sparring gloves.

"More or less," she hedged. "Shall we get this over with?" She stood up straighter while pulling on the protective gear.

"Show me that thing you did to the Klingon when you picked his pocket," Malcolm demanded eagerly.

"Which time?" she asked.

"The thing when you took his gun."

"We'd need a gun for me to take," she pointed out. "Let's leave that for next time."

"Then how about that hand grip you used on me?" he persisted. "You used something similar on a man in the bar. You dropped him to his knees with just a handshake."

Andie obligingly reached out a hand. Malcolm extended his and in three seconds was on his knees grunting in pain.

"That one?" she grinned with a glittering smile.

"That would be the one," he agreed, standing and rubbing his arm when she released him. The nerves tingled all the way to his elbow.

"There's a nerve ending you have to hit with your index finger, here," she took his hand and gently applied pressure to the key point. "It's a spiral movement you make with your hand. That's why they wind up on their knees when you exert your grip." Malcolm squeaked as she dropped him to his knees again without warning. Andie smirked. "This position makes it easy to apply pressure to their nose, or other body part."

"Pressure?" He knew the question was a mistake as soon as it left his mouth. He blamed it on the raw nerves screaming up his arm.

Her leg flew at his face. He gasped and was disgusted with himself when she stopped before actually kicking him in the nose. "Pressure also works here," she told him, swinging her leg to kick him in the family jewels. Again she stopped early, for which he was grateful.

"If I was paying attention, I could grab your leg like this," he pointed out from his position on his knees. He wrapped his hand around her ankle and twisted quickly, throwing her weight backward and knocking her onto her backside.

She stared at the ceiling. "That only works if you're fast enough," she told him breathlessly. Rolling her legs over her head, she landed in a crouch and rose. "You're too slow."

Malcolm pushed to his feet and faced her in a defensive stance. "I like to give my opponent time to get out of the fight." His grin was amiable.

"That attitude will make you dead very quickly," she scoffed.

"Do you fight to the death very often?" he asked, circling around her.

"More often than I'd like," she answered indolently before swinging a punch in his direction. He deflected it and caught her around the throat. He pulled her close to his face where their breaths mingled for a second before he released her. They parted and circled again. Just when he thought he had her, she swung a leg and dropped him on his backside. In spite of her silent hostility, they were both just getting to know their opponent.

"Would you care to make a wager?" she smirked as he rose from the floor. Dropping him on his ass was more satisfying than she'd hoped and she was planning on duplicating that fact many more times.

"What kind of wager?" he asked suspiciously. She seemed particularly on edge tonight.

"Just a little something to keep this interesting," she suggested. "Every time someone gets knocked on their ass they have to answer a question from the victor." She watched him ponder the offer.

"What kind of questions do you intend to ask?" he wondered.

"Whatever kind you like, when and if it ever becomes your turn," she answered.

"What if there's nothing I want to know about you?" he asked archly. As he lay in bed last night, he realized that wasn't true. What he wanted most from her were answers

"Then you may exercise your right not to ask anything and claim bragging rights instead," she smirked. "We're here because the captain wants us to get along, and understanding your opponent is the best way to make peace."

Exhaling heavily, he studied his face, watching for signs of foul play. Unfortunately, there were none to be found. Her face was a brittle mask of daring. "The fallen must answer a question," he acknowledged cautiously, wondering why he would ever agreed to this in the first place. "But if I knock you down, I have the right to refuse one question."

"Fine," she agreed shortly. She had no intention of letting him win that many rounds. She raised her fists up to her nose, like a pugilist then ruined the effect by jumping from side to side and wiggling her posterior unnecessarily. "Ready to feel my wrath, old man?" she taunted him fiercely as she took a couple of practice swings with a grin on her face.

She looked like a kitten batting at a string. Malcolm raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Take your best shot, little girl," he countered in kind, reluctantly raising his own hands.

That Cheshire grin hardened.

Her right fist flew slowly through the air and he easily ducked it. He never saw her left fist until it snapped his head backward and bloodied his lip.

"Careful, you stumbled," she taunted him with a warning.

He rubbed his lip. That was no lucky punch. She had some skill, and she had enjoyed that hit. At least he wouldn't feel like he was taking advantage of her. They circled each other again. The doctor was small and slender. He was certain he could incapacitate her, but he relished the process of toying with her, as a cat might play with a mouse. She was light on her feet but fell for obvious ploys.

Testing the same maneuver on her reflexes, he swung with his right fist and she ducked. His left fist came around, and she deflected it with her forearm.

They circled.

He shifted his weight and she took the bait, lunging for his chest. He grabbed her arm and held it; sweeping a leg around her ankle, he shoved. She tumbled straight to the ground with a _whump_. He waited a moment to see if she was all right.

Her outrage at being tossed the ground gave way to a sultry grin. "To the victor go the spoils," she murmured, rolling to her back and propping her body up on her elbows invitingly. Her tee shirt stretched across her bosom in tantalizing curves. Despite her provocative attitude, her eyes remained guarded.

"I'm not interested in your body, Doctor," Malcolm crouched down nearby. "I'm interested in your mind."

She wasn't certain whether to be offended or concerned at his interest. "That's a first," she muttered. "It's kind of kinky too." Andie pretended to think. "Let me guess, you want information about Eckta's defense capabilities?"

"I want to know why you belong to Starfleet when you don't really like what they stand for."

Andie looked puzzled. "I like Starfleet just fine."

"No, you don't," he corrected her. "You go out of your way to defy authority, you don't respect the captain, and you won't even wear the uniform. So why go to all the trouble of joining?"

"Exploring space, making new friends; I believe in that way of life," she answered hesitantly.

"There are other ways to do it," he pointed out. "You could join any number of private research teams or any one of several medical expeditions, or even just request permission to remain on another planet studying one group for a period of time. Why join a group in which you have no interest in belonging?"

There wasn't really an answer for that. Traveling through space was all she had ever done. "Being confined to one planet makes me feel…claustrophobic," she finally answered. "Starfleet seems to be the safest option for exploring the galaxy."

Malcolm watched her closely. She seemed genuinely surprised by the question, and a little off-kilter. It was possible that she did what she did for reasons she had yet to understand. He nodded to indicate that he thought she'd answered sufficiently. It seemed the only answer he would get out of her at the moment.

"Ready for another round?" he asked as he offered his hand to help her to her feet.

"Certainly," she agreed, still holding his hand.

He saw the fist coming but had no time to duck. One foot hooked around his knee and he flew through the air and landed on his back. She was very fast, he noted silently. "Where'd you learn to fight?" he asked.

"Boarding school," she smirked. "Those bitches fight dirty." Andie stepped over his prone form and straddled his hips with her feet on either side. She crouched down so she was lightly resting her weight on top of his thighs.

"Doctor, to the victor goes the spoils," he grinned, lacing his fingers together to form a cradle in which to rest his head, gently mimicking her earlier stance.

"I want your mind, Sparky," she assured him. "Or whatever part of it you can afford to lose."

"Go ahead," he encouraged with a smirk.

"Your personnel files leave a gap of four years, beginning right after you graduated college and extending right through your first years with Starfleet. Some say you were working with mercenaries and you were sighted on The Reef. What were you doing?"

He could not have been more unprepared for her question if she'd punctuated every syllable with a blow to the head. "I don't…you don't…how do you…?" He gathered his resolve. "Who told you that?"

"My sources don't matter right now," she told him. "Your answer matters."

"I was working with covert operatives," he told her carefully.

"There's no record in your file of covert operations," she told him matter-of-factly.

"Who told you that?"

"I have my own sources," she answered enigmatically. "I didn't ask who you were working for; I asked what you were doing."

Malcolm mind raced, trying out answers in his head and discarding several as too risky. He settled for most of the truth. "I was working within covert operations, trying to find the identity of a slave trader known as the Drago Rouche."

Andie considered that answer carefully. "Why were you hunting the Drago Rouche?"

"Someone I cared about was killed, and reputable sources told me that the Drago Rouche was responsible because of a totem, a signature mark found aboard a freighter of dead spice traders. The spice traders led me to The Reef."

Andie scrambled to her feet from her position crouched over him, and stared at him as though he'd gone mad. She began pacing nervously. "That…can't be," she murmured finally.

"I should hope not," he answered, rolling to his feet. "I've since discovered that you posed as the Drago Rouche. I'd hate to have to kill you now. We're practically friends." Sarcasm dripped from his mouth as the blood drained from her face. She looked ashen and sick. This interrogation wasn't going as he'd planned.

"Your information was wrong!" she told him forcefully. "Your source did not find a flying M on board that freighter!"

"It was a little different back then, but it was unmistakable." Now Malcolm was confused. _She knew which freighter he meant? But if she wasn't the attacker…?_

"Different how?" she demanded. She looked like she might throw up at any second and with every step he took to close the distance between them, she scrambled backward as though frightened of him. The game they'd been playing was forgotten.

"The flying M was very clear," he told her firmly, using his index finger to draw in the dust on the exercise mats. "Although it was written vertically, not horizontally and there was an intersecting line." It looked like a number three that had been crossed out.

Malcolm hadn't thought it was possible for her face to grow any paler, but she did. He thought she might be in imminent danger of passing out. She gave up trying to stand her ground in front of him; instead she reached around and grabbed her water bottle and her towel with shaking hands.

"Your friends were mistaken," she told him in a voice that quivered with fear. "You're not seeking the Drago Rouche. The slave trader you're seeking is the Melzurra." She practically skipped backwards toward the door, her growing fear palpable in the nearly empty room. "You seek the Butcher."

At the door she looked up at a stunned Reed. "We're done here." Without another word she turned and fled. "Don't ever come near me again."


	57. Chapter 57

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 57

* * *

It wasn't hard to find her; she'd sought refuge in her quarters as though she could seal the door against him. That wasn't going to work. Not tonight.

Malcolm hit the buzzer to announce his presence and wasn't surprised when Andie ignored it. He pressed the buzzer again, this time with more determination. Impatiently he tapped the button to the comlink with a crisp finger, growing more incensed that she would flee at such an important moment. "Andrea, open the door before I have it permanently removed." The words were clipped short.

Eventually his persistence paid off. The door slid back on its well-oiled tracks with the barest of _whooshes_. "Go away! I have nothing more to say to you!" she hissed, using her body to barricade his entrance.

"I think we have a great deal to talk about," he announced in no uncertain terms, pushing forward to enter her domain; he was fairly certain their conversation should not be heard by anyone else who might be wandering the corridors at this late hour. Andie scooted backward, afraid even to touch him. The door slid closed and they were alone in her semi-dark room. Only the low light on her desk spilled a small glow into the chamber, along with the radiance of the ship's running lights seeping in through the view port.

Andie wanted to flee but there was nowhere to go. The yellow disk had been right! Cirro had been right! Malcolm had been part of a mercenary group that landed on Eckta's Reef nearly a dozen years ago! The only mystery left was to determine how much he knew, and when he knew it. Her eyes narrowed as she thought of the myriad ways he had chased her all over this ship. He must have known something, although she couldn't imagine why he hadn't just confronted her with this knowledge long ago. He didn't seem the type to hold back when he really wanted something. She watched him as he watched her; his eyes flickered downward briefly and she realized she clutched a smooth drinking glass with a lingering drop of amber liquid in the bottom.

"We have nothing to talk about," she retorted, immediately on the defensive against his presumed condemnation of her habit, feeling her cheeks burn along with her throat from the fire of the spirits. "I'll be off this ship in a matter of days! Just leave me alone and I'll be out of your hair in no time!"

"You're not going anywhere," he promised her softly. She looked like a wild animal, backed into a corner while preparing to fight with tooth and claw to get out of the trap. He meant the words to sound soothing, to calm her. Unfortunately the resolve he felt turned his gray eyes into shards of ice and carved the words into a threat instead. He could see the desperation grow in her. He could tell by her body language that she was considering throwing that glass at him. Rather than dragging the information from her physically, Malcolm tried to calm her down using a different tactic than he had previously employed. "I can't let you go until you tell me about the spice freighter."

"They were alive when I left them!" she spat. Jojo didn't care for the angry human tones and hid under the bed. Leon took up his position on the windowsill and growled low in his throat.

"They were dead when I got to them," Malcolm informed her. "They hadn't been dead long. I'd like to know how they got that way."

"I don't know," she shook her head. She refused to look him in the eye, choosing to focus on his collar instead.

He had a feeling that wasn't entirely true. Tension crushed his chest in an iron band. He could see that Andie was trembling, although she stood her ground defiantly. Something had to change with regards to their interactions with one another. "May I have a glass of whatever that is?" he gestured to the vessel still in danger of being crushed by her white-knuckled hand.

If she was surprised about the subject change, she hid it well. "No lectures about the call of duty?" she sneered.

"I'm not on duty," he replied simply.

Sullenly grateful to have an ordinary task that allowed her to regain some of her composure, Andie performed the task while trying to brush away the panic that was gripping her with icy hands. Careful not to turn her back on him, she stepped backward and pulled another glass out of a drawer, along with a bottle wrapped in a velvet sack. She poured a generous portion and offered it to him at the very extent of her reach. Obviously she wasn't going to come any closer to him than she had to. Malcolm accepted the glass with a nod of thanks and sidled closer to her bunk, granting her space. His knees were shaking slightly and it was a relief to sit down. Leon growled louder at this intrusion, but the lieutenant didn't pay the cat in the window any mind as he settled into a seated position near the head of the bed, his spine still ramrod straight. The doctor shivered violently, probably from the waning adrenaline that her flight had caused. Malcolm lifted up the blanket folded neatly at the foot of her bed and offered it to her. She snatched it out of his hands as though he might bite, drawing it around her like a personal shield.

"I lost someone close to me," Malcolm began in a low tone of voice, meant to lull her into relaxation. "Eleanor died in an alley in the rain. I tried to investigate on my own. There weren't many witnesses. There was only one old man who remembered strange lights in the sky." He laughed mirthlessly. "I thought it was meteorological and was in the library looking up anomalous weather patterns when I saw a science journal celebrating Dr. Erickson's breakthrough in transporter technology. I knew what had happened to her, even though there was no evidence left. I couldn't get into Erickson's lab, but I heard about a research facility outside Beijing and went to learn everything I could from them." _That turned into a disaster of an entirely different kind, _he recalled_, but she didn't need to hear about any of that right now._ "Somebody pointed out to me that if they used a transporter then her attackers weren't from Earth. So I signed up for Starfleet."

Malcolm sipped his beverage slowly, letting the alcohol burn its way to his stomach. "I knew I wouldn't find what I was looking for in the usual channels. I fell in with a group of people there who promised they could help me. That group led me to a bar where we were supposed to meet with a slave trader called the Red Dragon." He looked at her intently. "That informant disappeared before we could meet. Actually the informant died first. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?" He already knew she did.

"It's complicated," she murmured, staring out the window, watching the stars stream past.

"I'm sure it is," he replied noncommittally. He was going to remain calm if it killed him, even if his hands were shaking so badly he feared he might drop the glass, even if the vise around his chest constricted so tightly he was having trouble breathing. He would draw breath until he got what he wanted.

"I though it was over and done with. The past is like a monster that just keeps crawling out of the darkness," Andie murmured, shuddering. She rubbed her forehead with one hand. "I'm not the one you want," she confessed. The light hit the side of her face, but left her eyes shadowed in darkness.

"I figured that out by myself," he told her dryly.

Andie studied him calculatedly. The small furrow between her eyebrows was the only indication that she was thinking fiercely about his story. When she started, she began in the middle of the tale rather than the beginning. She was tired of talking about the beginning. She was afraid to tell him all of it. She couldn't bear another reaction like Tucker's.

"I got work on Eckta's Reef as a medic, but then I got a job entertaining on the stage. There was this prostitute named Naj who thought the job should have gone to her. It paid better, you see. She made my life hell until one of her girls needed a medic." She sipped her drink slowly trying to fortify herself for the rest of this tale. "Her john had beaten her pretty good and Naj wanted me to help her. I…could only make her comfortable."

Malcolm felt sick but didn't interrupt. The women he'd seen had been young, but he didn't think there had been any children. That didn't mean they hadn't been there at one time.

"Some of those girls should never have been there. Some of them had been stolen from their homes; some had been sold by their families. Some of Eckta's girls shouldn't have been there at all." Andie drifted away for a moment, lost in the horror of her long ago discovery. "Naj and I found a common goal. There were freighters coming and going at all times and for a price they might take an extra box of …say, supplies…with them." She stared at him and waited for him to catch on. It didn't take long.

"You smuggled girls," he deduced in a faint voice.

"I told you I was a smuggler of sorts," she nodded, both grim and smug at the same time. "We all had parts to play. Naj would select one of the prostitutes to pick a fight with me in public and in a few days nobody could find the troublemaker. I just smiled and claimed to know nothing." She shrugged. "People stopped picking on me because they were afraid they'd disappear and Naj got to save some who needed saving."

"Why were you on the Reef in the first place?" The Reef, no matter how it changed locations, was a long way from a private boarding school.

Andie idly rubbed the cheek of the orange cat who watched her intently. Not knowing if she could really trust him, she told him part of the truth. "Our ship needed repairs. That's why I got a job in the first place. Eckta's repairs are expensive. Jase became a problem when I started working with Naj. Between the pittance I got for patching up pirates and the coin I picked up for singing, coupled with the gifts Dräe Rouge acquired from admirer's, I was rumored to be clearing some pretty sweet change."

"He got jealous," Malcolm decided. He ignored the fact that she had avoided telling him how she came to be a on a ship that needed repairs.

"He got greedy," she corrected. "We couldn't take off until he paid for his ship, but he couldn't make money as a transport captain without his ship. He didn't want to work for somebody else long enough to make the asking price. With all the money I was allegedly bringing in, he wanted me to spring his ship."

"Not realizing that all your money was going to the shipments of girls," he nodded. "You didn't confide in him?" That shouldn't have surprised him; she hadn't been happy to see her old pal.

"Jase can't hold his liquor and keep a secret at the same time. And with nothing else to do, he spent a lot of time at the gaming tables, trying to win the loot. He lost big to the worst of the pirates, a guy named Guiry Melzurra. People who get into debt with the Melzurra have a habit of disappearing too. Sometimes their relatives are lucky enough to get bits and pieces of them back." Without realizing it, her voice trembled whenever she spoke his name, as though the monster might hear the call and appear from thin air. "Guiry offered Jase a deal to keep his vessel. He explained that Jase would fulfill the contracts that Guiry was required to fill, receiving a pittance in return which would go toward the ransom of his ship, which Guiry now legally owned. Guiry didn't really want the _Jaynie Blau_, of course. It wasn't big enough or fast enough for his work. He just wanted Jase on the hook."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Blau made a deal with the devil."

Andie offered a significant look. "You have no idea!" she assured him. "Jase invited me to go for a ride, said he'd gotten her out of hock with…" she offered a mirthless laugh of her own, "…'strategic financing.' I should have known better; Eckta doesn't extend credit. But I had been so busy with my own stuff I had stopped looking after Jase." She shook her head in chagrin. "I guess that's what comes of being careless." She sipped again with an audible gulp. "Before I knew what happened, we had attacked a ship of spice merchants. He had the other crew on their knees, begging for their lives. He wanted me to help him, to hold the hostages in place while he cleaned out the hold. As soon as he left the room, I made the captain a deal; if he let Jase live, I'd let them go." Sighing, she looked out the window. "I never wanted to be a pirate."

"The captain agreed and Jase and his companions got tied up and thrown into the hold on the _Blau_ and I took the ship back to Eckta's where I discovered that Naj was…gone. She tried smuggling a kid while I was gone and got caught. Eckta had her…punished. I never saw her again." She stared at the portion of amber liquid in her half-empty glass before setting it down on the desk and wrapping the quilt tighter around her. "That's the last time I got really stewed." Idly her fingers reached out to the orange cat that continued to show concern at her upset by stretching out a paw to touch her. Andie could hear him purring softly, as though trying to soothe his mistress.

Shaking her head, she went on. "Guiry's men let Jase out. Even though Jase hadn't managed to off-load the cargo, Guiry still wanted his share of the loot. He said he still got paid whether or not they were successful. He offered to play another game of cards with Jason for the money that was owed. Jase was a pretty good card player. He had a great hand and thought he couldn't lose. He wagered…everything."

Remembering something she mentioned off-handedly once, Malcolm started to feel queasy.

"Guiry came up with better hand and demanded the payment that he knew Jase didn't have for this much larger debt. Guiry offered to trade the entire debt in exchange for me. I was something of a celebrity and therefore valuable as a commodity to a slave trader like him." Even though the decision hadn't been hers, Andie's cheeks burned. She'd been played and that didn't feel good, no matter how it happened.

"Jase took that offer?" Malcolm questioned in horror.

"Guiry is a monster among monsters," Andie told him. "Jase didn't have a choice." She attempted another mirthless laugh, but it caught in her throat. "Guiry is often referred to as The Butcher. He has few, if any, compunctions." Her fingers toyed with the glass sitting beside her on the desk. "I woke up to an invitation to dinner. I actually thought Jase wanted to apologize for trying to make me join his gang. The table was nicely set, the dinner smelled good, the wine was drugged." That last was dropped into the list very conversationally. "I woke up a short time later in a box about to be loaded onto Guiry's ship by his thugs. I was as good as gone. Then a fight broke out in the docking hangar. In the chaos the box broke open and I got away."

Malcolm couldn't have made a sound even if he wanted to. He was suddenly trying to wrap his head around a story that just ceased to make sense. Or maybe it made too much sense. _Those spice traders hadn't been dead very long!_ The sentence kept running around his head.

"I made my way to engineering on Guiry's ship. Most of his men were busy with the shooting outside, and the few I encountered believed me to be a concubine. They thought I'd finally given in to their boss. They let me pass. I sabotaged the engine. By the time the ship exploded, nobody knew that one of the escape pods was missing."

"They couldn't have given chase anyway," Malcolm broke in quietly. "The explosion took out more than half the docking berths on the main level." He could see the fire in his mind's eye. He struggled to breathe as though he was back in that hangar, choking in the thick smoke. The key to everything had been but a stone's throw away and he'd never even known it. Not then and not even now, he realized. He'd known there was something about her; he just never expected this.

"Now, see here," she chided a little desperately. "You're getting ahead of my big reveal." Digging in the pocket of her scrubs she pulled out a yellow data disk and frowned at it before shoving it across the narrow space at Malcolm. "This fell into my hands through an anonymous source recently. I found it interesting."

Dazed, Malcolm took the disk and the PADD she offered him and loaded the cartridge into the machine. There were three video files on it. The first was of a group of shady figures entering a public room. The second showed the same group relaxing around a booth in the corner. The gold swag curtains hid most of their faces from view. The third was of a young dark-haired man standing at the bar, trying to carry a handful of drinks back to his companions. The view of his face was very clear.

They were all pictures of his first visit to Eckta's Reef, taken from the octopod's security system. His fierce glare returned and he pinned her with its icy chill. "Where did you get this?" he demanded hoarsely.

"An unverified source dropped it into my hand. Pay close attention to the background in the third picture and you'll see me pass by."

Pressing a few buttons magnified the screen. As the video played, two goons in black carried a black lacquer box painted with a red symbol that looked like a three with a line crossing it through the club and out the door while that younger version of himself stood at the bar getting drinks.

The world shifted under his feet and he grew dizzy. The box that had carried a human female into an unwanted life of slavery had passed less than a meter behind him. Like ships passing in the night he hadn't even known she was there.

This time he couldn't squelch the shaking in his hands. "I got back to the table and they were following the men in black to the landing pad," he choked out. "I fired my weapon. There was a fire, and then a small explosion. I saw them drop the box. I got hit by debris and a friend pulled me behind a cargo crate. Then the ship exploded; burned everything in its path." Fearing that he might drop the device, he set the PADD down. "My people said the trail was cold; that proof of Eleanor's killers just went up in smoke." He met her eyes. "I thought I'd lost everything."

"Do you believe in destiny, Malcolm?" she asked with a hint of brightness in her eyes. "If your girlfriend hadn't died, you wouldn't have been in that bar, you wouldn't have fired prematurely and I would never have survived."

"I don't believe in Fate," he countered dimly. "I believe we make our own destiny." Focusing his eyes on her face, he choked out a reply. "She did _not_ die so that I could save _you_!" That would be an unfair trade. Something Trip Tucker said to him came back to haunt him. They'd been talking about whether or not they would want to know the future. They were talking about whether or not to know their future and the women they might marry. _"But you'd never know if you married her because you loved her or because you read it in a book._" Trip said that to him when they contemplated knowing the future as though it was already written. If he hadn't seen these pictures, taken from the security cameras at the Reef, he never would have thought anything like that was actually possible.

"You're right," she backtracked quickly, realizing she'd gone too far. "I didn't mean to imply that she was meant to perish."

"I don't believe in Fate," Malcolm repeated more firmly. "Where did you get these pictures?" Being seated was no longer an option. He got up and paced back and forth in front of her, shaking the disk as though it was responsible for everything.

Shrugging away the unshed tears, Andie eyed him steadily. "Somebody I don't know slipped them into my hand on the shuttle deck at Starfleet Command when I was on Earth." He could see in her eyes that she wasn't lying about this. "I didn't even look at the disk until recently."

"You don't remember who handed you a secret disk?" he demanded. "Think! Was he tall or short? Fat or thin? Was he a member of Starfleet?" Malcolm just barely stopped himself from shaking her as though he could shake her memory loose. She didn't like to be touched. It seems there was a damned good reason for that.

"I don't know!" she insisted. "I don't spend enough time on Earth to recognize who should be there and who shouldn't. It was crowded! I was busy! I didn't see anything!"

"Someone at Starfleet wanted you to have this disk! You can't remember who that might be?"

"You're missing the bigger picture, Reed," she corrected him darkly, concerned that he might throw the disk, possibly at her, and reached out to remove it from his grasp. "Someone on Earth wanted me to know that you were a mercenary at Eckta's Reef. Tell me, what purpose does that serve?"

"They're trying to discredit me," he murmured as though it was obvious.

"Then why hand the disk to me?" she asked. "Why not send it to someone who gives a rat's ass about your reputation, like Archer or Starfleet Command?"

_That was a good question_.

"Do you still have contact with your merc buddies?" she asked.

"No!" The word was out of his mouth before he thought about it, before he remembered his intense desire to ferret out the truths of the woman before him which had caused him to make a late night call through the comm. "Not really," he amended weakly.

"That's reassuring," she retorted dryly. She watched him resume his restless pacing.

"They must have reason seek me out."

"Maybe it has nothing to do with you," she interjected. "Maybe it has to do with me. Maybe it was a warning to me, that I was being watched or something."

Reed suddenly had a thought so disturbing that he sat back down on the edge of her bunk. "Whoever it was and whatever they want, they put you and me together through a photograph taken ten years ago before you and I knew that we had similar history."

"An incomplete photograph," she corrected. "I'm not technically in the picture." She leaned against the desk and poured a much larger dose of liquid into her glass and refilling his too. "I don't stay in one place long, but they tracked me down. I wasn't even at my post; I was off the ship at the time! They handed me a picture of the Reef long before Jason Blau ever set foot on _Enterprise_ and dragged me back there!" She glared at Reed. "Who the hell are these guys?"

"You don't want to know," he assured her.

"Oh, I think I do," she asserted firmly. "How did you find them?"

"They found me."

"How did you leave them?"

"There was one other mission, between my time on the Reef and leaving the….group. I suffered some physical injuries and they released me when I told them that I wouldn't work for them anymore."

"You were wounded," she said with certainty. "That explains your knee."

Reed looked at her in surprise.

"There were some unexplained anomalies in your medical scan," she told him. "I was looking at them very closely; otherwise they probably would have gone unnoticed."

"What were you looking for?" he wondered.

"You had nightmares when you should have been in a coma," she told him plainly. "I was looking for a physical reason, some immunity you might have. I stumbled on a scar under your patella and couldn't find a reasonable explanation for it."

They were both silent for a moment. Malcolm was afraid she was going to ask about his wound, an event he didn't want to relive, but she didn't probe further. Maybe she understood what it was like to not want to relive each and every mistake through the verbal word. He was starting to feel remorse for the ways in which he hounded her since she'd come on board. Unfortunately he knew he wasn't done hounding her just yet.

"What do we do now?" she asked in a small voice. "Are your people coming after us? Is there some precaution we can take?"

Malcolm avoided answering that question; not that he had any solid answers to give. "What about you? Is there anybody in your background who might come looking?"

"Unless you've pissed off Guiry for some reason I can't imagine that we run in the same circles."

"Not to my knowledge," he answered wearily.

"You said you were in Beijing?" she inquired. "What were you doing in China? Was that some covert operation work?"

"No, it was research in transporter technology. Why?"

"No reason," she answered, looking at her feet.

"Doctor," he added in a warning tone. It didn't take a master to see she was prevaricating.

"I was in western China once. I was learning to skydive and the wind blew me off my regulated course. I made an unscheduled landing and was asked not to return. But that's not something they'd want revenge for."

"That's all? What about your work? You made enemies of those doctors at the Protean Research Station. Do you have many enemies? Did you treat anyone famous or influential?"

"Yes and no." She was quiet for a moment.

_Too long_, he decided. "What?" he snapped.

"Sometimes I evaluate people."

"Evaluate people?"

"Sometimes I meet with people at the request of my superiors and offer my opinion of their work. It's all unofficial; I just report impressions."

"Have you evaluated anyone important?"

"No, and none of the records go in an official file. Besides I haven't done that for a while now. Nobody would have anything to gain by insulting me now. Moreover, both Starfleet and E.U.S.P.A. have exerted a lot of effort to keep my name under wraps. They wanted to keep my reputation separate from my father's. Very few people know about me. Not the real me, at any rate," she added.

Malcolm had another thought. His head was absolutely throbbing with the thoughts that chased each other around his brain. "Are you evaluating anyone right now?"

Andie heaved a deep sigh and exhaled just as heavily. "I'm just supposed to be interning under Phlox. I have a reputation for…being somewhat…prickly… and before they assign me to a ship full-time, Starfleet wanted to evaluate me." She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. "I just want to work on a starship. Is that so wrong?"

They remained silent for a moment.

"How do you suppose they got into Eckta's security tapes?" Malcolm wondered.

Andie snorted. "He puts on a good show with his security measures, but he changes security personnel often. There's a lot of uncertainty about who gets access to what. Anybody with a little ingenuity can get in there and take whatever they want." She eyed him sharply. "He took you, right?"

"I don't know what you mean," he hesitated.

The prevarication seemed ridiculous at this point and she exhaled in a humorless laugh. "He took you to the security room and showed you the video feeds. I know he did. He liked you. He showed you something."

"Pictures of you," Malcolm admitted ruefully. "He tried to tell me that you were no good."

"He's right about that," she agreed grimly. "I put him out of the child-care business." She noticed his expectant eyebrow and smirked. "I told him to get grown-up whores or I'd share his dark secret with everyone."

"What secret could hold that much weight?" He was truly curious.

Andie snorted. "Eckta is a mama's boy. His mother lives deep in the bowels of the Reef and rules him with an iron tentacle. That's bad for business. It's a weak spot and the other organized crime bosses don't take you seriously if you've got mommy issues. I threatened to tell everybody about her if he didn't get rid of the children. He didn't like that, but he complied."

"Maybe he's using the tape to threaten you," Malcolm pointed out.

"It's not his style. I may be a pain in his ass, but I was also bringing in a lot of business. He had no reason to threaten me. Besides he always felt bad about Guiry taking me out of there. It's why we had such an easy time getting into the Reef. He thinks he owes me."

"Maybe he's trying to warn you to stay silent," Reed suggested. His head was spinning from more than the liquor he'd imbibed.

"Maybe it's not a warning at all. Maybe it's an invitation," she suggested listlessly.

"I can't imagine anyone sending this as a sign of welcome." Malcolm sighed. "I thought I saw a man from my past at Major Hayes's funeral. I don't even know if it was real or a dream. Ever since then I've felt…" _Pursued_ was the word his mind supplied. Andie had other suggestions.

"Hunted, stalked, followed, shadowed, surveilled…?" Andie supplied a helpful list of words.

"Yes." A shadow passed over his face as he realized something else. "I've made you feel that way since you came on board."

"Yes. At least now I know you had reason to be paranoid."

"Eleanor was the girl I saw while I was fevered," he imparted with great effort. "I kept seeing her image telling me to trust you."

"Smart girl," Andie mocked tiredly.

"I think Guiry is the reason she's dead." Gray eyes darted her way with an artificial composure. "Is there anything you can tell me about his whereabouts? How to find him?" It took every ounce of resolve not to pounce on her; to lean back as though he hadn't a stake invested in the answer.

Andie stopped fidgeting and looked at Malcolm very carefully. She noted the bundles in his shoes, which were probably his toes curled into knots. She saw the whites of his knuckles, standing out in sharp relief above his fisted hands clenched around his glass. She saw how deep the worry lines were etched around his face and the way his cheeks rippled as he clenched his jaw. "Are you looking for justice or vengeance?"

"Does it matter?" The words were sharper than he intended.

"One's more likely to get you slaughtered," she noted warily. "I'm out of the business of watching people get killed on purpose. It was a hard life to leave and I have no intention of stepping into that world again."

"I've been searching for him for years!" Malcolm was on his feet in a heartbeat, hissing fiercely at the now calmer woman as he towered over her form where she still rested her backside against the desk. "You know as well as I do that he had those spice traders killed when Blau failed to take their cargo! You've got every reason to want him taken out of the public eye and brought to justice! Tell me what you know! Tell me so that her family can know peace! Tell me anything!"

Andie reached out and took the glass from Malcolm's hand before he snapped the fragile glass. She kept his hand in hers, running her fingers over the contours of his skin. During every maneuver in the gym, his hands had never been anything but tender. She couldn't say the same; he might have a few bruises tomorrow. For a man skilled in combat, he had the gentlest hands she'd ever touched. _Or been touched by_, she added to herself.

"Even if I knew something…I wouldn't tell you anything."

Malcolm yanked his hand out of her grasp and back away from her.

She tried to make him understand. "It's for your sake as well as mine! I would never wish your blood on my hands if I could help it!" Each word hurt to speak out loud.

"You were right!" he hissed. "We don't have anything left to talk about!" He turned to leave the room. He paused with his hand over the button that would release the door. There was one final question he needed an answer to. The words were choked out as though his throat had closed around the urge to speak. "Did he hurt you? Did he…violate you in any way?" At the moment he felt that if she answered in the affirmative, he'd take a shuttle pod and hunt the bastard down right this very minute. It didn't matter which bastard had done it.

"No," she whispered. "I would have killed him if he had." She was glad he didn't turn around; he couldn't see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Her shameful weakness was her own.

Still she jumped when he hit the button and stormed out of the room.

* * *

The hour was growing early rather than late. Malcolm had departed the doctor's cabin and headed back to the gym where he'd punished his body with every single piece of equipment the ship had to offer. Every time his fist connected with the heavy bag, he imagined the face of the Melzurra. Each lift of the weight bar caused muscles to scream in agony as he imagined lifting Guiry up and tossing him away like garbage. Every footstep on the treadmill was one more step in an ongoing, never ending search for the man referred to as the Butcher.

He managed to put an end to his self-inflicted torture before causing any damage to his body that would send him to the infirmary. He didn't want to look the doctor in the eye just yet. He hated the way that she refused to help him. He had looked for so long; yet instead of aiding his quest she had denied him. His hand still tingled from the way she smoothed the palm with her thumbs, from the way her fingers had traced outlines along his index finger. She had looked terribly sad at his request for more information. She claimed not to want any more blood on her hands.

A long hot shower in his quarters had relieved the worst of the aches in his body. He was shaking when he finally stepped out from under the spray. The tremors wouldn't go away; he felt cold all the way to his bones. In response, he turned up the thermostat and pulled on a sweatshirt.

Sleep was abysmally cruel, stealing him away into blackness when he wanted to lie awake and think things through. His worries managed to creep into his dreams though. Over again in his mind, he replayed the events that occurred on the Reef's hangar deck. Something made him follow those men. Something made him fire his gun. Was it Fate? Were his actions dictated to him through the unknowable processes of an almighty power amused by the useless struggles of a humanity that searched for truth from a design laid out before any one of them took breath? Or was Reed master of his own fate, able to decide that the men in black looked suspicious and follow them to their depraved commander? At the height of the action on that smoky hangar deck, a younger Reed looked to the side. Eleanor waited there, dressed in white. She opened her mouth and cried "Nevermore" before raising her arms and turning into a bird, a black-winged raven, and flying away. That scene replayed itself in his dreams throughout his abbreviated sleep.

In spite of his long day and exhausting evening, Reed woke early. He lay in bed and listened to the familiar sounds of the ship. He waited for the pang that would hit his chest whenever he dreamed of Eleanor, but it didn't come. He waited for the pounding headache that was bound to occur with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed last night, but it never came either. It had been a long time since he felt this good in the morning. Rising he washed and dressed for the day, surprised to find himself humming some witless little tune. Malcolm shut off the alarm that had never had the chance to ring and made his way to the Mess Hall.

* * *

Commander Tucker was there already; unusual for the engineer who liked to sleep until the very last minute. Reed filled a mug and joined his friend at the window, watching the stars slip by in all their cold white glory.

"You're up early," Trip remarked without looking directly at the shorter man.

"So are you," Malcolm countered, equally disinterested in making eye contact.

"I couldn't sleep. I was up late, talking to my folks back home." That had been a hard conversation for Trip. His parents had such joyous news about their new house. He had barely stepped foot inside that building, but he hated it a little. It wasn't his home.

"I couldn't sleep either. I was up late, talking to the doctor."

Trip turned his head. "How'd that work out for you?"

Malcolm took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I…have no words."

Trip nodded. "Yup, that was my response too."

Malcolm looked surprised. "She told you?"

"Cap'n made her," Trip confirmed. "She told T'Pol too. We're not supposed to talk about it."

Malcolm grunted as he sipped his tea. The silence stretched out between them. "I thought there was no justice left in the world. Is it strange that her story gives me hope for the future?"

Trip sent another dubious look at his friend. "That story gives you hope? One of us must be crazy. It just made me sick to m'stomach."

Malcolm thought about it. He might be touched in the head. Then again, he might not. "There's still so much out there for us to find. I feel better about what tomorrow holds."

"I envy you that," Trip sipped his coffee. "I can't shake the feeling that there's nothing out here but cold, empty space."

"Perhaps another cup of coffee might warm you?" Malcolm held out a hand, silently offering to refill his companion's mug.

"Might do the trick," Trip nodded agreeably, turning away from the view port. He made himself useful by rustling up a crewman in the galley, and the two men settled in for an early breakfast.

* * *

Reed had successfully avoided her for two days. He confined his work to the armory and she managed to keep herself very busy in Sickbay. After the inventory was done, she'd called for emergency drills and kept her staff running through the procedures until they were ready to drop. When rumor reported that Ian Black was considering staging a coup in protest, Reed made a point of waylaying the Ensign in a turbo-lift far away from the Doctor. One very short conversation had put a stop to that mutiny in a hurry.

His optimism hadn't gone away. It didn't fade or grow sour. Lt Truax kept tossing strange looks at him in the armory; only then would he realize that he was softly singing under his breath. Guiry was out there somewhere. Malcolm would know how to recognize him if he ever laid eyes on him, by the totem marking his ship. And Eleanor would have her justice! The world was just full of possibilities.

It was time to reinitiate contact with the doctor. She was in the Mess Hall when he found her. Reed hadn't seen her up close since that night they spoke. From this distance he could see the dark shadows under her eyes. She was leaning over and carrying on a soft conversation in the ear of the communications officer. The sounds in the crowded room masked his approach and he only heard a few words, enough to make him curious. The women fell silent when he was close enough to be noticed.

"Excuse me, ladies. May I join you?" He gestured with his tray at the empty seat at their table.

Before Andie could protest, Hoshi had agreed. "Please sit down, Lieutenant."

"Is there something wrong, Doctor? I thought I heard you say something about having trouble with someone." Malcolm sprinkled salt and pepper over his food.

"Nothing's wrong," Andie denied firmly. "I'm fine." She stared into her coffee mug instead of looking at him.

"It's nothing," Hoshi waved away the question with ease. "She wanted to put a block on some mail she'd received from Earth." Too late Hoshi caught the glare from the doctor that told her she'd said too much. It puzzled the Comm. officer. Reed would see the listing sooner or later; there seemed to be no sense in prevaricating.

"Anything to worry about? Is someone scaring her?" he inquired, looking at the ensign not the doctor. _Perhaps this was the secret purveyor of disks,_ he thought.

"Nobody's scared, Lieutenant." Andie answered sullenly. "Someone has the wrong address. I've asked Hoshi to redirect his mail."

"What was the name?" He dropped his eyes to his plate but continued to sneak glances at Andie's' darkening glower from under his eyelashes.

"None of your damn business," Andie retorted succinctly.

Hoshi suddenly looked uncomfortable. She smiled apologetically at Malcolm. "I don't think that's something I can tell you, sir. Mail is still private."

"It's all right," Malcolm nodded easily. "Carry on, Ensign."

"Actually I have to get back to work," Hoshi murmured, glancing back and forth between her two lunch companions who seemed to churn the air around them with the force of their gaze. "Excuse me, please." She stood up.

Andie looked like she would very much like to protest being left alone at a table with Malcolm but could not think of anything to say to make the ensign stay. Reed continued to toy with his pasta salad until the Japanese female had left their table.

"May I have a word with you, Doctor?" he inquired politely.

"You just had eight," Andie pointed out acerbically. "How many more do you need?"

His eyes narrowed at her tone, but he refused to be baited. From the shadows under her eyes, more apparent up close, it was likely that a lack of sleep was making her particularly short-tempered. "I think we should begin again. I think we should learn to get along together, and I think that we should find our balance. We could be friends."

Andie eyed him. "You think it's important that I don't shine a light on your secrets, like you shone one on mine. Is that what you mean?"

"Perhaps I find you interesting," he offered with a smile he hoped was charming.

"Perhaps you're just fishing for information," she countered testily. "I have nothing more to say to you about the subject we were discussing the other evening."

"I never thought to ask. I only thought to continue our sparring matches," Malcolm suggested calmly.

"You want to get to know me by beating me up on a regular basis?" Her words parroted his earlier dubious reaction to a similar offer made by her.

"I might let you get in an occasional lucky shot," he offered generously with a sly smile.

"My father says I have the damndest luck. I don't need any of yours." The smile she returned was brittle.

"Gym on E Deck, nineteen hundred hours," he clipped the words short.

"I'm busy," she snapped, rising to her feet.

"Doctor!" he reached out touched her wrist.

On any other day she would have dropped her dirty dishes in his lap and on his head, but a sudden whoosh from the sidelines changed her mind. Archer stood in the door to his private dining room and took note of the exchange with serious green eyes.

"Remove your hand, or I'll remove it for you," she threatened quietly.

His hand released her quickly. "We should…" he protested.

"No, we shouldn't," she refuted firmly. She turned and walked away.

Malcolm watched her navigate the crowded room with an easy grace until he felt the presence of somebody else at his table. The captain had slid into a chair next to him.

"Everything okay?" Archer inquired, watching the doctor disappear through the double doors.

"Everything's fine, sir," Malcolm assured him. "We were talking about some mail she'd received in error." He decided that discretion would be better suited at the moment.

"You were talking about mail," Archer repeated. His spirits fell. She'd defied him again. He'd been so sure she'd come around, but he had been fooling himself. "Don't worry about Dr. Brainerd, Malcolm. She won't be your problem much longer. I have some mail of my own to send. I'll see if Starfleet can't send us another doctor until Phlox gets back."

Malcolm's head jerked upright. "What do you mean, she won't be my problem?" She'd warned him when last they spoke that she'd be gone in a few days. Had their conversation sent her running far away from him?

"Andie came to me yesterday and requested to be returned to Earth. She's offered to stay until a suitable replacement can be found, but she's asked that I expedite the request."

"She's asked to leave?" Malcolm repeated, feeling the earth drop away from his boots. His stomach rolled over. She always seemed to have that effect on him, making him feel off-balanced and ill.

"I've spoken to the doctor about her disciplinary problems before. She said that she's not making any progress crafting peace, and suggested it might be time to call it all off." Archer sighed as he looked at Malcolm's plate with interest and heard his stomach growl. "I had hoped that she would come around, but it seems she's still harboring grudges. I can't have that kind of uncooperativeness infecting the crew."

"Sir?" Malcolm's voice spoke before his brain had considered what he wanted to say. He stumbled for the right words. "The problem with Dr. Brainerd…that is…I'm the problem with Andrea. Sir."

Archer looked at him.

"I didn't react very well to a conversation we had recently and she's…I think…I hurt her feelings."

"Must have been some conversation," Archer remarked studying Reed intently. Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe Andie had complied with his request after all. But why would she fail to mention it?

"I'd hate to be the reason that she's sent home in disgrace, sir." It was hard to talk quietly in the crowded lunch hall but he did his best. "Please don't make the request to Starfleet just yet. Give us a chance to… clarify our positions."

"You're not responsible for Andie's actions," Archer refuted quietly. "She knew what she was getting into."

"What happens to her if she goes back to Earth now?" Lunch was no longer appealing. His journey's end was slipping away from him even as he sat here with food on his plate!

"That's not my problem." Archer relented under Malcolm's distress. "I'm not sure Starfleet would offer her a job, but she can continue working for E.U.S.P.A. I'm sure she'll land on her feet. She seems to have a habit of doing that."

"That's not an ideal situation, sir. Allow me one last chance opportunity to make a difference?"

The captain considered the request. "Why the sudden change? Last week you couldn't stand her." What conversation had Malcolm reacted badly to that had caused this disruptive rift? Trip wasn't acting like himself either, and T'Pol had retreated even further into her solitude than before. The doctor may have had a point when she asked him to keep her story secret. It hadn't seemed to do anyone any good. Gardiner was going to be very unhappy that Archer was sending her home, after he'd gone to all the trouble to allow Andie to offer her background in spite of the alleged need for secrecy. Perhaps Archer was holding out for a miracle; that's why he hadn't complied and sent in her request yesterday. Although he couldn't put it off much longer now, there may be time for one last play in this game.

Malcolm thought about that. "Perhaps she's grown on me since then, sir." Clearly she didn't feel that she could remain near him when he'd stormed out of her cabin that night. He'd given her the wrong impression and she was leaving him. Actually she was sabotaging her career to get away from him.

"She's grown on you? Like a fungus?" Archer teased. Now that Jon was pretty certain that she would be working things out to his satisfaction with the armory officer, it put him in a much better mood. Even if he couldn't say for certain that he would make that same choice again, to force her to talk to others, since it had gone down like a water polo ball filled with lead.

Malcolm flushed. "I wouldn't put it quite like that, sir. Not where she could hear me at any rate."

Archer snorted with laughter. "All right," he agreed. "You can have another day or two. But if there's no immediate improvement, she's going home."

"Thank you, sir," Malcolm nodded. He rose, taking his dishes with him. He couldn't allow her to leave now; not when she possibly held the key to the only answer he'd ever wanted. The problem was she wasn't in the mood to speak to him. He was going to need a plan to get back in her good graces. He returned to the Armory to consider his options.

Jon watched him go. He wondered what solution could be found between the new doctor and the tactical officer when they could barely stand to be in the same room with one another, but Malcolm had proved himself clever before. Jon was looking forward to seeing how the Brit could fix this problem, so unlike the usual tactical issues he had to face. His green eyes noted a redheaded crewwoman eyeing the empty chairs at his table and smiled. "Go ahead; I was just about to leave." He left the table to the diners and headed back toward the Captain's Mess, where he found Trip and T'Pol already waiting for him.


	58. Chapter 58

The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 58

* * *

Reed was pulling apart the insides of a torpedo launcher with a vengeance when Lt. Truax entered the Armory at the start of her shift. Quietly she handed out assignments to the waiting afternoon shift, and then headed over to her boss.

"What's wrong, sir?" she asked, handing him a torque wrench before he asked.

"The torpedo launcher won't align properly. I thought it might be a physical problem with the unit." His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and a thin sheen of perspiration glistened on his brow. He tugged on the bolt under inspection with a grunt.

Truax remained silent for a moment. "We just ran a satisfactory diagnostic yesterday," she reminded him "What happened overnight that changed that conclusion?"

"That's the mystery," Malcolm grunted. "Perhaps you should look into that."

Ignoring his surliness, Truax knelt down near him, lending her own hands and strength to loosening the bolt that was stubbornly stuck. "You've been in a good mood recently. What happened overnight to change that?" She ignored her superiors' scowl and told him equably, "You could save us both time and tell me now," she grunted now with her exertions. "It will make the afternoon pass more quickly."

His second in command was tenacious. She would keep picking at this until he confessed his problems, and as Archer pointed out, he didn't have a lot of time. In addition to her even temper Truax was also well known for her discretion and sage advice. He'd just never had reason to seek out her willing ear before; at least, not on a personal matter. "The doctor dislikes me," Reed admitted.

"That's not new," Truax told him dryly, pulling a tube out of the toolbox.

"I behaved badly," he went on reluctantly. He didn't feel the need to elaborate and Barbra didn't ask. It didn't surprise him in the least that she knew about his contentions with the physician. He wondered if everyone was keeping an eye on the two of them.

"You could apologize, sir," she pointed out, tucking her short salt and pepper hair behind an ear as she bent over to smear lubricant on the underside of the stubborn housing.

"She doesn't want an apology," Malcolm growled. He yanked on the bolt with an especially hard tug and the stubborn little thing released its grip and rolled around like it was supposed to.

Truax surprised him by saying. "My husband, God rest him, used to bring me flowers when he thought he'd done something wrong."

Reed thought about that. There were certain traditions to apologizing to a woman. "I can't bring the doctor flowers!" he insisted, replacing the wrench in the tool box.

"The gift doesn't matter," Truax asserted. "It's just a symbol that you recognize the validity of her viewpoint. It might open the door for further dialogue."

Now that the bolt was loose, Reed settled back against the housing for a rest and contemplated her words. The doctor's reasons for leaving the ship were good ones; he'd considered the same ideas himself. It's just that keeping her on board was such a personal matter. There had to be some way to gain her trust, to make her see that his cause was worthy. He noticed his lieutenant was still studying him intently. His next sentence changed topics and surprised the older woman. "Have you heard anything about the position you applied for on the _Columbia_?"

"She's stuck in dry dock," Barbra recovered to say. "There's a problem with her engines that the engineers can't figure out. They can't really say when or if she'll be ready to fly soon."

"I'm selfish enough to hope she never flies," Reed said softly. He looked at Truax seated next to him. "Good help is hard to find."

Truax almost grinned. She'd worked with Reed too long to make light of a rare compliment. She restrained herself with effort. "All right, Lieutenant," she grumbled good-naturedly. "Back to work! We can't have this torpedo launcher sitting in pieces if we should come upon some unfortunate situation that requires an assertive stance."

Malcolm chuckled quietly, then darted a look around to make certain nobody saw him lose control like that, risking an harassment suit by commenting on such a personal level. "Aye, sir!" he teased in return, snapping off a quick salute before repositioning himself in front of the torpedo housing and digging deeper into its guts.

* * *

T'Pol had been reserved at lunch. That was nothing new these days. Trip had requested her assistance with the EPS grid in the afternoon, and she continued her uncommunicative state as they worked on opposite sides of the large panel that bypassed the small room. He couldn't even see her unless he craned his neck around the corner. She was so quiet he might have been working alone.

"Malcolm said Andie had the big talk with him," Trip broke the silence as he worked.

"Archer will be relieved," T'Pol answered when she decided that he required a response.

"He said her story gave him hope for the future," Trip went on, encouraged that she was breaking her silence.

"It was a long tale. Perhaps he hoped for a swift end to the story," T'Pol suggested.

Trip leaned his head around the module in front of him to get a closer look at the Vulcan. "Did you hope for an end to the story too?" he probed, feeling a little giddy that she appeared to be less morose than had become her custom.

"It occupied the time during our ride in the shuttle," T'Pol answered evenly. "I would have preferred to meditate."

"Aren't you meditatin' a lot these days?" Trip inquired restlessly. He jabbed a probe a little too deeply into a socket, provoking a spark.

"I have many matters to meditate upon," she said softly.

"Ah, yes! The Kir'shara!" Trip heaved a sigh. That damn book had changed everything! He felt out of sorts all of a sudden. He was tired of feeling like he didn't have anyone to talk to. Everybody seemed busy with something else and now he could hardly get two words out of the outspoken Vulcan. "You figured out how to rewrite Vulcan history yet?"

His words were petulant, but T'Pol was not unsurprised by his attack. He had not reacted well to their sexual relations in the Expanse nor had he reacted politely to their cessation. She had expected the new doctor to fill in the time on the engineers' social schedule, but now that the doctor seemed preoccupied with the tactical officer, the engineer was proving restless. "It will take some time to reestablish my priorities in compliance with the appropriate guidelines. Change is not easy."

"You're tellin' me," Trip muttered. "I can't keep up with all the changes on board."

"I am Vulcan. It is important to me to retain my own sense of identity," T'Pol reminded him sharply.

"Nobody's takin' it away from you!" Trip burst out then sighed heavily. He was being a jackass. "I'm tired," he exhaled. "Are you tired?"

"I am sufficiently rested," T'Pol answered carefully. She wasn't certain what sleep had to do with anything they were currently discussing.

"I feel like I'm supposed to keep on doin' what I've always done, but I don't feel like myself most of the time!" He peeked around the corner at T'Pol again. "You ever feel like that?"

"I am surrounded by an alien species whose personal interactions are foreign to everything that I have believed since childhood," T'Pol reminded him. "I am frequently reminded to change myself for their comfort. It has always been difficult to retain a sense of self."

"I like who y'are," Trip offered quietly. "I just like it when you talk to me when we work, too." He missed her, he realized.

"I shall endeavor to change for your comfort," T'Pol peeked around the corner at Trip. "Shall I tell you every tragic detail of my childhood?"

For a Vulcan that was downright playful. "I don't need anymore tragedy," Trip assured her. "Tell me about your Kir'Shara instead."

"It is a large volume," T'Pol told him with very serious face, but twinkling in her eyes. "We will be finished with this task before I have told you all I know."

"I'll work slowly," he promised with a small grin.

"I see you continue to abhor change," T'Pol deduced. She ducked her head back behind her portion of the EPS grid before he could figure out that she was telling him he worked too slowly already.

Several seconds passed before his head craned around the corner at her again. "I see you _are_ embracing change. Is that for my comfort level?" he tossed off, acknowledging her dig at his habits.

T'Pol was relieved that he could not see the small smile that crept across her face. "The Kir'Shara begins with the importance of logic," she began, ignoring thoughts of his comforts.

Trip sighed. At least she was talking to him again. Although this talk of change gave him something else to think about while T'Pol rattled off a list of tips from the Vulcan Code; the first officer was not the only person to have embraced change in the hopes of fitting in. The doctor wasn't the same today as she was when she came aboard. She was polite and pleasant and that just seemed wrong coming from her. He didn't know her very well but if she kept this up, he might not ever know the real person. It might make his life easier, but it was in conflict with the very nature of their mission of exploration to accept her adjustments without question. He'd have to do something about that or else he might miss out on the same joy of getting to know the physician that he'd had getting to know the Vulcan.

* * *

Late that afternoon, a fresh cup of coffee appeared under the doctor's nose as she worked at the desk in Phlox's office. Truthfully she had been about to nod off and a fresh induction of caffeine seemed like an excellent idea. However, the bearer of the gift didn't bode well for her peace of mind. Andie arched her brow as she studied the steam swirling off the top of the brown liquid. "You think to bribe your way back into my good graces and didn't even think to bring pastries?" She clucked her tongue. "That's very sloppy, Lieutenant."

"I didn't want to ruin your dinner, but I'll remember next time," Malcolm promised.

Andie just shook her head. There wouldn't be a next time. Every muscle in her body ached and she just didn't have the heart for this anymore. "I'm busy, Reed," she sighed heavily. The implication was clear; state your intentions and get out. Even he could see there was a list of things a kilometer long to finish before she headed back to Earth.

"The captain plans to send you home," he told her, watching the shadows play around her eyes.

"I know," she replied quietly, studying the data pads in front of her.

"You told me you didn't want to be sent home because of me. You refused quite adamantly."

"I've decided not to fight the inevitable. You can't change what's meant to be. I'm not meant to be here. That's all." _Not that there was anyplace else to which she was more suited_, she thought.

"What will you do on Earth?" He watched her fiddle with notebooks and pads and instruments, anything instead of looking him in the eye. She remained remarkably calm for someone who was looking at a disgraceful discharge.

"I'll think of something. Physicians are always in demand."

"Stay here." The plea surprised them both. He hadn't meant to sound so emotionally involved. That sounded much more personal than he meant it to. Malcolm didn't want to give her the idea that she was special to him in any way; he only intended to suggest that she fulfill her professional obligations.

If Reed was begging, he must really want something from her. She didn't have anything that he wanted. _Or did she?_ "I can't." She held up a hand to forestall any further comments. "The Great Bird knows I love nothing more than to be sweet-talked by men, but there's nothing you can say to change my mind. It really is better this way."

"Better for whom?" Reed challenged. "Leaving now cannot affect your résumé in a positive manner."

"I'm not worried about my résumé," she replied. "I'm concerned that my presence will continue to disrupt the regular course of duties on board this ship."

That was Archer's phrase; Malcolm recognized it. "You don't have to disrupt anything. We can amend our association to make certain that would not occur."

"Nothing would change," she refuted with a shake of her head and a mirthless laugh. She just figured out why he was being so nice to her.

"Everything would change," he insisted.

"Let me tell you how this would play out," she told him with a weary sigh. She picked up the mug of coffee he brought and sipped it slowly, appreciating that he remembered to put milk in it, just as she liked. "You would insist that we meet for sparring practice. You'd probably extend a dinner invitation, possibly a meeting for movie night as a companionable meeting. And just when I got lulled into a false sense of security, you'd pounce on me like a cat on a mouse. You'd demand that I offer you answers that I've already told you I wouldn't give you even if I did have them. I would refuse. You would resent me. We would be right back here again arguing about which one of us is a bigger pain in whose ass. I'm not going to sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop."

He shuffled slightly. That had been his plan all right. He didn't often get the sense that people truly saw him for what he was, but she seemed to have his number all right. "So that's how it's going to be? You're just going to pack up and run without waiting to see if I can adjust to living with you on this ship?"

"You shouldn't have to try and adjust. People are the same no matter where they go. They never change," she uttered softly. She squirmed a little under his gaze. She didn't like his assumption that she was running from her problems, but there may be more than a little truth to it. Her job required a great deal of travel and she always enjoyed the fresh aspect of it. Leaving a place had never bothered her before. What disturbed her now was that she was tempted to stay. Outer space is where her heart lay, and after all the trouble it took to get out here, it seemed ridiculous to just return to _terra firma_ and hope that she'd get another chance to serve on a starship some other time. But remaining here was a bad idea. They knew too much, especially the lieutenant.

"What if Guiry follows you to Earth?" Malcolm speculated out loud. If he couldn't persuade her, perhaps he could frighten her into staying.

"I have no reason to suspect that he might," she shrugged it off.

"Blau found you. He thought you were dead. If he was still under Guiry's thumb, he might have transferred the information to the Butcher."

"He wouldn't do that," Andie continued to insist, although she didn't look as certain as she had a moment ago.

"You would be all alone when he found you. If you remain on board…" He pressed his only advantage, preying on her need for companionship.

"What? You'd protect me?" Andie's voice was bitter. "No, thank you. I don't need some big strapping man to take care of me. I can do it myself."

"You shouldn't have to," Reed tried again. "There are people here who could help."

"I'd rather do it myself than leave it someone else." Her lower jaw jutted out stubbornly.

"You're awfully cynical," he told her bitterly.

"I'm awfully tired," she corrected him wearily. One hand waved listlessly at the stack of data pads in front of her, along with several hand written journals and an assortment of instruments that littered the desk top. It was more than just work though; she was tired to the bone. "I have a lot of work to do. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

Reed finally took the hint. He had failed to persuade her. Frankly, he wasn't certain what would reach her. He straightened his shoulders. "I should leave you to your work then," he remarked. "I'll be in the gym at 2100 hours, if you should change your mind. Sometimes change can be for the good."

"I don't think that will happen, but I appreciate the offer." She complimented herself on the way she continued to look him straight in the eye. It wasn't until after he'd left that she snuck a glance up at the ceiling. Luckily she'd replaced the vent cover before she'd nearly fallen asleep at her desk. There was no reason for him to think she'd been up there at all. If she didn't hear back from E.U.S.P.A or Starfleet soon, she was going to have to undo all that she had accomplished, and do it quickly and in secret. That would mean more nocturnal activities all the way to Earth or to whatever transport would be arranged. Andie rubbed her eyes.

These late night work sessions were going to knock her on her ass.

* * *

Shortly after the double doors swished closed on Malcolm's exit, the doors swept open again. Andie headed out into the main ward to see who had entered, glad of the chance to stretch her aching muscles. Trip was holding a cloth over his hand. "You always seem to be here. You must be working very hard," he commented, managing to look cheery in spite of the hand he cradled against his body.

"Or maybe I'm just hardly working," she teased, sipping from her fresh mug of coffee. "What happened to you?"

"Slipped a little when I stood up" he explained to the physician. "Caught m'hand on the corner of the engine housing and it wouldn't stop bleedin' so I thought you ought to take a look at it." He sat down on a bio-bed and waited for his exam.

Andie nodded politely and peeled back the dirty rag as she stifled a yawn. "You'll need a couple of stitches," she told him. "I'll be right back." She pressed a clean pad against his wound before moving to fetch the appropriate tools.

Trip rolled his head around on his neck as though it pained him; the muscles were tense and tight. When she came back, he gestured up at the ceiling. "Nice music." A trio of violins chased each other through a tune like water drops drizzling down a windowpane. It made him think of rainy Saturdays when he was a kid, staring longingly out at the sodden lawn. "What is it?"

"_Volcholk Strang'et_," she answered easily as she cleaned his wound with antiseptic gel. "I picked up their recordings at…" she drifted away, trying to picture the marketplace or the vendor or even just the planet. Her mind refused to focus. "I don't remember where," she finished lamely, using the auto suture to close the jagged edges of skin. She suddenly realized that she really was very tired, just as she told Reed. Those weren't just words she employed to get him to leave.

"It's a lot different than the other stuff you used to listen to," he noted in a low voice. "It used to be loud and kind of violent. Sort of like you," he grinned.

She didn't grin back. "Many have complimented this musical piece as being very soothing, unlike my other choices. I thought it more appropriate for the medical wing." She placed a bandage over the newly knitted skin. "You're all set, Tucker. Keep it dry tonight and call me if there's any further discharge."

"Thanks, Doc." He flexed his hand and grimaced at the mild pain the action caused. "You know, you don't have to change everything about yourself to fit in here. You'd get along just fine just as you are."

Actually she was about to be escorted off this ship for being exactly what she was, but she guessed that he didn't know that yet. She'd asked Archer to keep it to himself for a while which he seemed to do even if he couldn't help but race straight to the armory officer with the information. It was likely harder to keep secrets from security than from engineering. "I think Reed would disagree with you there. He doesn't seem too pleased with me right now."

"I think Malcolm just wants to get to know you better," Trip objected. "We all do. The _real _you, that is; not the public relations nonsense that's in your file. And not the You that listens to dreary string quartets instead of something loud and offensive." He watched her busy herself putting away the medical supplies while she pretended not to listen to him. "Malcolm seems to think you give him hope, for whatever that's worth." Trip took her bare hand carefully in his when she turned back to him while pulling off her other glove. "It'd be a sad and unceremonious end to your love affair if you never let it get started." His cheeky grin nearly cracked his jaw. He really enjoyed tormenting her.

Andie smiled sweetly and squeezed his hands in hers. He gasped at the sharp pain in the newly repaired wound. "You ever speak those words again and I'll remove something from you to make certain you won't have the chance to start your own love affairs in the future," she promised with a dark look in her gleaming eye.

He chuckled at the threat. "I promise," he vowed, removing his hands from her grip and checking his clean bandage for signs of blood that would indicate she'd reopened the wound. There were none even if the nerves sizzled a bit where she'd clenched his hand. He decided to back out before she took more drastic measures against him. "You comin' to dinner?" Trip paused on his way out the door.

"I've got some work to do." There was the hole in Phlox's ceiling to repair for one thing. And packing up two cats, she mentally added. And rustling up another assignment, she added again. And saying good-bye to a few good people, she ticked off the list. Andie would be very sorry to leave the jovial engineer behind. Perhaps she should mend a fence or two with Reed. If it meant staying longer out of Earth's atmosphere she could hardly refuse. "Thanks for the offer though," she whispered softly.

Work had become her standard answer for everything. Tucker sighed heavily as he started for the double doors. The tension in his shoulders was relieved somewhat when he heard the music change. The dreary violins went away, replaced by some shrill-voiced devil who screeched about love in darkened alleys after a long, pounding guitar solo. Trip grinned even as he winced at the so-called music. It was an improvement. There might still be hope.

* * *

At 2100 hours on the nose, Reed entered the gym hoping to find it occupied, but not surprised to find it empty. The worms that had been swirling around his insides settled into a knot in his gut as he prepared to begin his workout by lifting the smaller weights. He hadn't finished more than a couple of reps when the door opened and the doctor stepped into the room.

She cradled a soft satchel in her arms. Walking up to the edge of the mat and standing in front of him, she looked fidgety. "I'm late," she began nervously.

"Yes you are," he agreed. "But perhaps it's better late than never."

Andie tilted her head to one side and closed her eyes blissfully. "Do you hear that?"

Malcolm stilled long enough to decide she was nuts. "I don't hear anything," he told her.

"Yes you do," she corrected him softly. "There's the swish of the atmosphere recyclers. There's the hum of the engine and the way the grav plating vibrates under your feet. There's a slight buzzing in the lights overhead and the whoosh of the doors opening." She opened her eyes. "I love those sounds. I really love to fly." Hesitating, she shuffled her feet. "I don't have much to go back to. I'd rather stay here." Now she glanced at him mulishly. "If I have to suck up to you to make that happen, I'm prepared to make that sacrifice."

Malcolm couldn't stop the smirk. "You'd never suck up to anybody."

Pretending to ponder, she nodded. "You're probably right. Blackmail it is then!" She offered a naughty grin.

"Those are your only preferences? Brown nosing or blackmail?" Malcolm set down his weights and leaned forward. "You have limited options, Doctor."

"Maybe you could expand my repertoire," she added. "Maybe I could expand yours." She reached for the velvet sack she carried, ignorant of Malcolm's flush at her racy comments.

For one brief second he'd had a very different idea about the skills she wished to expand upon. The only hobby he could recall at the moment was dancing in a pirate bar. He couldn't tell if he was relieved or curious when she pulled out two long weapons.

"Do you know anything about sword play?" she inquired. She held the two swords she'd picked up on Eckta's Reef. The blades were about as long as her forearm, and the engraved pommels were adorned with the red and blue badges he'd come to recognize as belonging to the Red Dragon and Captain Blau.

"Not really," he demurred, eyeing Blau's emblem with distaste.

"I could teach you, if you like. We could pass the time that way. Not talking. I won't have to worry about you manhandling me and you won't have to worry that I'll shoot you again. It's primarily a hands-off sport." The blade she offered to him was dressed in a thin protective shield that dulled the edge of the blades. A blow with this weapon would leave a bruise, but it wouldn't cut the skin.

"Will there be a lot of time to practice with real pirates?" he wondered out loud, wondering again why anyone would spend their time with such murderous and primitive weapons when a phase pistol could offer so much more.

Andie froze at what she considered an unprovoked attack. "This was a bad idea," she stated simply, reaching out her hand to take back her weapon. He was never going to give up on the idea that she'd been a pirate and there was no way she could change his mind.

"No, it was a good one." Malcolm sidestepped her reach and hefted the blade in one hand. It had more weight than he imagined it would. She was so slight; he marveled that she could lift one, let alone two!

The woman stared at him, trying to read his mind. "You should know something about me, Reed. I'm good with knives." She was wrapped in a red tunic that wrapped around her torso and was tied with a belt of the same material.

"So you've said," he grunted, making a few restless slashes with the weapon in his hand.

"Not just as a surgeon," she pressed on slowly, trying to impart the seriousness of her tone. "I mean, I'm really good with knives. You should try to understand that. I don't need anyone else to take care of me. I do just fine on my own." Stepping away from him, she pulled something from her tunic and readied her own sword by pulling off the protective guard. Reed saw she held an apple, pilfered from the Mess Hall. She threw it into the air and with quick, deft movements she bounced the fruit on the flat side of her sword. She tossed it again and speared it. She thrust her arm and the apple slid to the end of the blade and with a quick movement, she'd halved the fruit, catching one piece on the flat edge of her blade.

Lifting her head to look him in the eye, she smiled. "Impressive, yes?"

"Quite impressive," he agreed easily, amused by her saucy impertinence.

"As are many of my skills," she purred, rising to stand straight with her chin in the air.

"Where did you learn that?" he gestured at the mat.

"I know a guy," she answered easily, immediately hiding her face and refusing to meet his eyes.

"You know…a guy?" he repeated dubiously, adopting the light drawl of her nearly non-existent southern twang.

Andie shrugged. "We had some time to kill. He taught me."

"He must have been some guy to spend all that time teaching you something so difficult. You learned it well," he added. He wasn't surprised when she refused to elaborate.

"He was," she agreed. She looked conflicted for a moment before pushing ahead with her plan. "I thought you should know." She used the soft cloth of the satchel to wipe down the blade and then replaced the protective skin.

"Know what?" he asked seriously.

"Know what you're in for," she responded, reaching out to take back the sword he held. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you to do that for me."

"I believe you," he answered. He decided to press his point home. "But you don't have to leave this ship because of me. There are some things that should never be faced alone." He was a complete and utter liar! There were things in his past that he would prefer to face alone, and never speak of to another soul. It was beyond his comprehension why he should worry about this one woman; except that she held the key, the key that would release him.

"If I stay on this ship..." she started then faltered. She knew what she was going to ask was unfair, but she was determined to do it. "Promise me…?" Once again she hesitated.

"Promise what?"

"Promise me that as long as you know me, that you will never again ask me about Guiry. Not ever."

It was inconceivable! He opened his mouth to object. Andie was the only link he had to a mystery he'd been trying to solve his whole life! Without her, he was back at square one! "You're asking me to give up finding the man who killed my friend!" he bit out.

"I'm not asking you to give up your hunt. I just don't want to be part of it."

"After all this time, the trail is growing cold. You're the closest I've come to finding him in years!" He felt the desperation grow in him, but he could see she was adamant. She was locking the door against him.

"If you can't make that promise, then we're done here," she stated ruthlessly. "I don't want to be hunted by you for even one more day. I want to know that we can put the past behind us and start over. I want to know if you can let go of this thing or if I should just go to Archer and make travel plans now. Either way you'll lose your lead in me." Looking him straight in the eye she asked again. "Do I have your promise?" To put it another way, she wanted to know if she could trust him.

Malcolm wanted to run his hands through his short-cropped hair. She was refusing him the only thing he wanted from her, the only reason he had to make her stay. She was asking him to give up on the one thing he'd ever wanted with his whole entire heart. On the other hand, if he couldn't consent, she would walk out of his life and he'd never see her again. With a very heavy heart, Malcolm Reed looked Andie Brainerd in the eye and agreed. "I promise not to mention Guiry or question you about him ever again." His hopes settled at his feet like ash after a fire had died.

Andie tilted her head to study him with curiosity, coupled with the cynicism that was becoming a regular part of her expression. "I've never met a man who could keep his promise," she warned him.

Malcolm had no trouble looking her in the eye. "I've never broken a promise once I've made it," he assured her. The relief he felt that she would be staying behind was oddly at ease with the small flare of hatred he felt for her right at this moment. As a security officer and a gentleman, he never liked it when his hands were tied. He dropped his gaze to the floor, lest she see that he wasn't happy with this arrangement. Of course, part of his job description involved breaching security protocols. That idea brought his head upright.

"Well, one of us will be wrong. This should be interesting." Andie exhaled with relief. "Are you ready?" She held out one of the short bladed swords to Reed.

Malcolm accepted the weapon, feeling its cool grip in his hand. "Let's get started." He picked up his feet and followed the female who had just cut his heart out with the same easy grace with which she'd cut up the fruit to the center of the quiet room.

* * *

"Eleanor wasn't the only girl, was she?"

They hadn't lasted very long in the gym. Andie was exhausted and Malcolm just wasn't focused on their parleys. After she taught him a few basic stances, they had sat down to rest with their backs against the wall, sipping out of the water bottles they carried with them. Their conversation drifted a little in a different kind of fencing exercise; each warrior tested the mettle of their opponent by lobbing questions at each other without the guise or pretense of polite conversation. She discovered that he had few hobbies outside the safety of the ship, and he learned that she didn't want to talk about her childhood. Then she tossed this question at him, trying hard to look as though she wasn't interested in the answer.

"What do you mean?" Although she was very good at maintaining a casual facial expression, there were subtle hints around her eyes that gave away her intense curiosity. He played dumb to see how badly she wanted to know.

"I mean," Andie intoned with an eye roll, "That you're a healthy human male…and it's been a long time since she passed away. She wasn't the…_only_…girl in your past, right?" The emphasis was accompanied by a slightly vulgar hand gesture.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand. What are you trying to say?" Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek to hide his smile. They were getting along but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun at her expense.

"There have been other women, right?" She would not be deterred, although she tried very hard not to picture the laugh that Trip would have if he knew what she was doing. If Reed had gone years without companionship, would she offer to assuage his needs? She wasn't certain she could answer that, even in her own mind. It was her job to attend to all of the bodily needs of the crew; physical release was just one of them.

_Right?_

"Of course there are other women," he scoffed. "One third of the crew is female."

"Not crewmates!" the doctor snapped, growing frustrated. "Girls! Women! Hoochie-mamas!"

"My mother stays away from hooch," Malcolm informed her as primly as a nun. It was well worth the huff of irritation she expended before blowing her temper.

"Look, Sparky! I'm not good with delicate topics and I've never had to expend so much effort at not being crude before and you're being….!" She finally saw the laughter he was trying to hide. "You're being deliberately obtuse," she finished in mock disgust.

He chuckled out loud. She was sharp enough. "There have been other women," he assured her, feeling exposed at having released that much information. Some things should just stay private.

"Is that a long list?" she inquired curiously after a brief moment to consider that.

"Define 'long,'" he demanded.

Andie snorted. "I should have known you wouldn't have any idea what a 'long list' looks like!"

Malcolm prickled at the insult. "How about you? Were there other men than Jase?"

"Two thirds of the crew is male," she countered loftily.

He just looked at her.

"Yes, there were other men," she huffed while rolling her eyes.

"Is that a long list?" he mocked her.

"Depends on your definition of long," she teased. She sipped some water. Relief was what she felt. He was taking care of his own body just fine. Even if he did seem tightly wound sometimes.

"I can't believe you let him go!" It was Malcolm's turn to burst out. "He sold you like property and your response to that was to make him a prince!" He scowled. "If I had known, I would have helped you throw him out an airlock!"

"He's suffering now," she said quietly.

"Oh, yes! I'm sure he's tormented every night as he sleeps on his silk sheets and summons his servants to serve his every whim!"

Andie shifted restlessly on a bottom that had fallen asleep. "He is eternally bound to a selfish and silly woman who cares for nothing but her own pleasures. He will dance attendance upon her until she grows tired of him and then forgets him. He'll have to grovel for everything he wants. He will spend his life in service to her, but he will never be able to have a say in the world around him unless she can be persuaded to indulge him. He'll be present but useless. It sounds like purgatory to me." Her voice was even and cold.

Reed just stared at her. "When you put it like that, it doesn't sound very pleasant."

"At least he's alive. Where there's life, there's hope."

Malcolm could marvel at that. She had been terribly betrayed by the man who claimed to love her, yet she still clung to hope. He couldn't imagine doing the same in her place. He wondered what charity or bounty she carried in her heart to be able to look after one who had caused her so much pain.

"Do you have hope?" he questioned, equally curious. At her frown, he hurried to add, "A lot of people might have lost their optimism after what you've been through."

"I did for a while. But I think that as long as I have work to do, I'll be fine," she stated quietly. "I like to keep busy." She rearranged her seated stance and faced him. "What about you? Do you retain hope?"

"I have more hope today than I did yesterday," he stated softly. There was nothing but a swallow left in his bottle and the hour was growing late.

"What made the change?" she asked. The question was loaded and they both knew it.

"I find my job very fulfilling," he danced around the answer. He should have known he couldn't get away with that.

"Did something special happen today that hadn't happened yesterday?" she inquired politely.

"I have a new friend today," he answered with a small grin.

"What makes you think we're friends?"

"What makes you think we're not?" he countered. "You think _Fate_ brought us together. Maybe we're _supposed_ to be friends." The sarcastic tone just popped out.

"_You_ don't believe in Fate," she reminded him evenly.

Malcolm paused. She wasn't going to let him get away with a non-answer. She was testing him, to make certain that he would keep his word not to pry about Guiry. He was determined to allay her concerns. "This morning I woke up from a full night's rest without remembering the nightmares of the night before because there weren't any. This afternoon I finished recalibrating the torpedo launcher and hummed a little while doing it. You put me in a very good mood. I can't remember the last time I wasn't censoring my conversation with the people around me. Whether or not you intended it, you have offered me a certain kind of freedom. I can appreciate that."

Andie pulled her legs up and curled them in front of her, massaging the calf to get the blood flowing again. "You have to censor your words to your friends too, huh?" she grunted. "I hate that."

Shifting his position to rest one arm on a crooked knee, Malcolm leaned his head back and peered at her curiously. "How did you come to be in that position in the first place?" he asked idly.

The doctor stiffened immediately.

Reed tensed too. "I guess you don't feel the same freedom with me," he guessed wryly.

"I had a…fight with my dad," she admitted carefully, keenly aware of the limits she had placed on their conversation. "We fought about…who ought to be in control of my life. I made some…awkward choices."

The hesitation was clear, but Malcolm didn't press any further. He clambered awkwardly to his feet, feeling blood rush into his extremities, offering her a hand to assist her to her feet as well. "Who won?"

Andie raised her arms over her head and stretched as far as she could as she considered the outcome with due seriousness. "I don't know anymore."

With an unspoken ease, they both made preparations to call the evening to an end. He swept an arm ahead to indicate that she should lead. She stepped over to the mat where she'd left the velvet satchel that contained the swords before joining him at the door. He reached ahead of her and pressed the button to open the portal when she reached him. She stepped across the threshold and he followed, reaching forward again to hit the button when they reached the elevator. She yawned in the turbo-lift and fiddled absently with a bit of sticky debris stuck under one fingernail.

"Let me escort you to your quarters. You look like you should get straight to bed before you fall down," Malcolm offered, reaching out to take case from her grip.

"I've got some work to complete," she told him vaguely, allowing him to hold the satchel.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it will keep for one more day. If you're staying on board, you'll have plenty of time to finish it later."

"You're bossy when I'm tired," she frowned.

"Don't make me get firm with you," he teased.

Trip's joke about an undeveloped love affair tickled at the back of Andie's mind as her head jerked up to look in surprise at Reed. There wasn't a hint of guile in his face. Clearly he hadn't intended the comment to sound suggestive. Considering how careful he'd been all night to keep his body away from hers, he certainly couldn't have meant it in such a way. She saw his head start to turn in her direction and she snapped her gaze back to the doors as they opened. The fact that she was considering that he thought of her like that was indicative that his comment about her lack of sleep was more than just conjecture. She was getting sloppy.

Andie opened her mouth. "I'm going to stop by the Mess Hall. I didn't eat much dinner. Then I should definitely get to bed," Andie stated assertively, reaching out to take back the swords as Malcolm stepped out of the lift. She refused to acknowledge, even to her self, that he had nice hands. _Nice_, _gentle_ _hands_, her inner voice mocked her. "I'm going to kill Tucker," she muttered as the doors closed.

Just a hair too soon, it seemed, as Malcolm's gentle hands slipped into the thin space between the doors, causing them to slide open again. "Excuse me?" he queried.

Andie forced a smile on her face, praying that her cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "I was just talking to myself," she answered. "I do that when I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Good night, Lieutenant."

Malcolm put on a polite smile as well. "Good night, Doctor." He allowed the doors to slide closed and continued in the direction of his quarters.

He shouldn't let it worry him that her last words were of kissing Commander Tucker. In fact, it should be a warning. After the way he'd seen them walking arm in arm toward their cabins the other night, he would do well to remember that she had caught the attention of another man and was off-limits. Not that he was interested in her in that way, he reminded himself. It was just her knowledge of the pirates in this region that fascinated him, but it wouldn't do to be seen conversing with her in private and giving the ship's gossips a reason to bring tales back to Trip. His friend deserved better than that.

Malcolm walked through the nearly empty corridors until he reached his own door. In spite of his discomfort about their bargain, he felt better this evening. He had won the doctor over, he was certain. She trusted him now, more than she did yesterday. And one day she would tell him what he wanted to know. He would be able to find that Melzurra butcher and he would complete the mission he had set for himself. All he had to do was discover all her secrets.

All that would require was time.

The last thing Malcolm did before climbing into bed was to peruse the latest list of Do Not Distribute notices. He found the one he was looking for; Andie had requested that notices from Dr. Arthur Silver, or the Silver Angel Medical Alliance be forwarded to the Chrysalis Foundation. He pursed his lips and supposed that answered the question. Although she was undoubtedly the contact for the Medical Alliance and had put them in touch with the Chrysalis Foundation for their donation, she thought the Alliance and this Dr. Silver should speak to the Foundation directly instead of using her as the go-between for the private organization. She was trying to cut herself out as the middle man. That wasn't much of a mystery after all.

_Just about one hundred million secrets to go_, he thought grudgingly.

* * *

Captain Archer was pleased to discover a pair of notes with his morning messages. Malcolm asked him to withdraw the doctor's request to be removed from the ship, as they had made a truce last night after a long conversation. There was a similar note from Andie, although hers wasn't nearly as long or as polite as the lieutenant's. Taking that distasteful task off his morning agenda would make contacting Starfleet Command later this morning much more pleasant.

Jon sat back in the chair in his quarters, where he tended to eat his breakfast on the occasions he didn't dine in the private mess with his senior staff, and smiled at Porthos. "I think she's coming around," he announced gleefully. "Do you think they'll give me an award for finishing an impossible task?"

The beagle looked undecided. He did perk up quite a bit when Archer picked up his bacon.

"Maybe I'll nominate myself," the man grinned at his dog. It was shaping up to be a very good day. He checked through the other messages with one hand as he chewed on his bacon. T'Pol made note of a possible star system located at the farthest reaches of the ship's sensors and having anticipated his interest, was using this note to inform him of the adjustment to their heading.

Peace on his ship, a new system to explore and a day that started with perfectly cooked bacon! The world just didn't get any better than this!

Little did he know what the future had in store for him and the crew of the NX-01.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

Thanks for staying tuned in my ever-increasing saga! I think a series of shorter stories may work out better in the long run. Stay tuned for the continuing adventures of Malcolm, Andie, Trip, T'Pol and the rest of the crew of the _Enterprise_ in the upcoming sequel: _Renaisterre_.


End file.
